Kriminalist
by narni4eva
Summary: Matt and Mello branch out on their own, now that the Kira case is finished with. AU and slight MxM, rated T for language and slight adult themes, but nothing much.
1. A Lesson In Case Solving Part A

A/N: Well, people voted for Death Note and I've been wanting to write something Mello x Matt for a while, although there won't be much romance until later on. The title, Kriminalist, is German for 'detective', so that should give you some indication of what this is about. I thought I'd try my hand at first person narration, so that's the format it will take. I hope you enjoy it, since I've not tried this before - but you've always got to keep stretching your boundaries :) Also, as you've probably come to expect with me, this is a little AU. Imagine that Matt and Mello didn't die, and that Near caught Kira before anyone else got killed. Now that Near is undeniably the new L, how will things change for Matt and Mello? It starts during the investigation, for scene-setting purposes, but later on they will be solving their own cases. M for language, mostly. That Mello does have a bit of a dirty mouth.

* * *

Chapter One - A Lesson in Case-Solving

MELLO

I was standing outside the apartment in Japan when it hit me. It was stupid. I was going up against Near, on my own, and he had the whole investigation team to help him. Well, screw that, I thought. Time to even up the odds a bit.

Near's clever, yeah, I'll give him that, but I'm clever too, and when it comes to computers we both know a genius. Matt. Near's never going to ask him for help, because he thinks he's God's gift, he thinks he's the number one L successor. That's his mistake. Going it alone, when he could have someone by his side who is capable of hacking any computer or coming up with a strategy for any battle situation, usually whilst simultaneously catching Mew. Plus he's a friend, I kinda missed him this whole time, but I'll never admit that if you ask me again. Even if it is a little weird that you never see his eyes, you know, because of the goggles. He's like some kind of mystery man. He probably only wears them because of that kid in Digimon, Tai something. Whatever. That's not my area of expertise.

So I flip open my cell and call him, just like that. Why bother finding a secure line or anything private? I don't care if Near knows. In fact, I _want_ Near to know. I want him to hear the first stage of his failure, and then when I become the new L he'll look back and say, shit. I could have had Matt on MY side.

It rings twice before it connects. That's quick, two rings. Something tells me maybe he was expecting a call.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, hi, Matt. It's Mello."

"I know. Caller ID and all that."

"Yeah. Whatever. Get your ass over here."

"… To Japan?"

"Yeah. Problem with that?"

"No, it's just… airline tickets?"

"Booked by the time you get to the airport. You can pick them up at the desk."

"How soon do you want me there?"

"Yesterday. Don't fuss around packing like an old woman, just get the essentials and get over here."

"Alright. But, Mells, what -"

"What nothing. See you when your plane lands."

I put the phone down then, knowing he'll do what I told him to do, because it's Matt. He's younger and he likes me and he's not as cocky as Near. Yeah, he's good, but he knows his limitations. He's third in line, always has been, but me and Near are right up there at the top, battling it out. Could-be-number-one and will-always-be-third is quite a distance, and Matt knows it. He's not one to play games, heh, or should I say he's not one to mess around; playing games is exactly what he does, and he's fucking _good_ at it. That's why I need him. Because with Near, everything is just like a big old life-sized game.

Booking the tickets and everything takes about thirty seconds, and now I have a long wait, so there's only one thing to do. Back to work. Snapping off a chunk of chocolate, I crunch on it in a kind of satisfied way, heading back into the apartment to look at my files. Usual anti-Near routine: check for bugs, check for cameras, check for anything moved or missing. Nothing. Good. Down to business.

I look at the investigation team profiles again. L always suspected Light Yagami and I'm not one to contradict the man when he's at work. The fact he died anyway probably just adds proof, because it must have got irritating after a while, being told you're Kira. Even if you weren't, it might make you want to be him. Might make you want to beat L's head in with a shovel, but that's not what happened, is it? He had a heart attack, which tells me in no unclear terms that Light plus Yagami equals Kira. I still don't have any evidence, though, and Near doesn't either, or he'd have done something by now. This Light guy is a real smooth character, he's got it all figured out. Well, I'll just have to figure it out better.

I've run out of chocolate, not exactly the world's most surprising event. Anyway, so I get up and go over to my stash, and the thing is, right, it's right in front of a mirror. So I can't help but catch sight of my own gorgeous self, only not so gorgeous any more, since I've got this scar now. Damn Kira. Stealing my looks, making me ugly like that (not if I stand sideways, though, that way's still good.). And what I realise right then is that Matt doesn't know I'm all scarred up like this. I mean, he literally has no idea. If I could have trusted a hospital I might have been able to make it a bit smaller, but it would still be there, so what can I do?

Why does it bother me, anyway? I can still get by with my honeyed words, and it's not like Matt really pays attention to how I look. Of course he doesn't. He's just a gamer. If anything he's more likely to compare me to Paine because of all the leather, and he knows it pisses me off to be called a girl, but that's the full extent of it. He doesn't care if I have a scar or not, who am I kidding that it matters at all? Ahh, whatever. I'm done with dwelling on this. When I catch that Kira bastard I'll make him pay, because that explosion fucking hurt.

It takes a while, but about twenty chocolate bars later (that's the only way I can count time these days) I decide it's time to go. I've had no new leads, but then I rarely do. That's why I need Matt. I need the edge. I throw on more leather than usual and a helmet, shove another inside the compartment under the seat on my bike, and take off. If Matt's sensible at all he brought his own leathers, and if not he's an idiot, because I'm not the kind of person to just take a car. I mean, I _have_ a car, but I'm a biker, through and through. Matt knows me well enough by now.

I get to the airport in perfect time; how could it be anything less. Matt steps off the plane just as I make it to the crowd of people waiting around with boards proclaiming the names of the people they're waiting for. I came prepared, myself. I've got my very own paper name board ready to greet him. I tucked it into the helmet I put under the seat. I can't wait til he sees it. Heh. It's going to be great.

* * *

MATT

Oh, Jesus, I'm bored. For the last bit of the journey they made me turn my gameboy off. It's not fair. I was just about to finish Wario 3 for about the tenth time. The number's not the point, it's finding every single trick there is, and this time I nearly managed to do it in under three hours. I would have finished it, too. The stewardess came over and tapped me on the shoulder, all 'I'm sorry, sir' and 'can you please turn it off'. They wouldn't let me smoke, either. What's a man supposed to do?

I got off the plane fully ready to give Mello all hell for that, but of course in the back of my mind I knew that wouldn't happen. Mello's not the kind of person you give all hell to, he's the kind of person you get all hell from. He's like the final boss, only you're not the hero, you're just an underling. Makes me wonder why I'm going, actually. He abandoned me in England and scuttled off to Japan to work on this case, didn't email or call, not even so much as an IM, and now he's suddenly decided he wants me there…

Well, I always go where he calls. It's my job or something. I always have, probably always will, that's just the way it goes. So long as I get to play my games, smoke, and mess around with some computers, it's fine. I don't think L ever intended me to be a major player. I'm here as tech support, for whoever needs me, and right now it seems like it's Mells who needs me. I'm glad. I prefer him over Near, that kid's a little freaky, right? Mello is a bit too, but at least he doesn't play with those stupid toys any more. And Near shows off all the time. And Near doesn't know my real name.

Yeah, looking at it that way, I'm definitely in Team Mello.

I was just walking through into the… what would you call it? Lobby? Well, anyway, the bit where everyone meets people. I was hoping Mello would be there, since we didn't actually arrange where he'd be, but no need to worry. There he was, standing proud in full neck-to-toe leather, smirking and holding a card that said "Mr Dumbass".

Yeah. Hilarious, Mells. Absolutely hilarious.

* * *

A/N: So, there we have it, part A of A Lesson in Case-Solving. As far as I have planned there will be six lessons. I wanted them all to be a chapter each, but it looks like most will be too long for that - I hate drowning people in massive walls of text, and I don't have the time for 10,000+ words a week anyway, so they will be split down into smaller parts. Hopefully on a weekly update, or quicker.

Anyway, please review and let me know what you think so far!


	2. A Lesson In Case Solving Part B

A/N: Cracking on with the story… there's a lot of plot coming up, but it's just setting the scene for the story itself, really. Oh well. Onwards!

* * *

Chapter Two - A Lesson in Case Solving Part B

MELLO

See, I knew it was a good idea bringing in Matt. He's hacked into the police network already, and he's only been in the flat two hours. I guess the police system is small fry to him, though, we've got L's system to hack into next. He reckons he needs a couple of days, at least. I give him… thirty-six hours. Yeah, a day and a half, that's how long I think it'll take him.

His reaction earlier was… weird. He sort of glared at me for the card and then when he got closer and I turned the right way and he saw the scar he sort of stopped. Just _looked_ at me. There was this look in his eyes like he was sad or something, I don't know, it was all weird and stuff. He didn't say anything. The fucker didn't say a single word, just carried on as if nothing happened.

So we just got on the bike, right, and he's holding on to me all the way back, with all his games and stuff in a bag on his back. He even took off those stupid goggles for the ride, couldn't fit them under the helmet. He doesn't really take them off for anything else, you know. I've seen him go to bed wearing them. I wonder if he showers in them? Second thoughts, I don't want to know, he can keep his showers out of my mental images thanks very much. Ugh, get out. So fucking wrong.

I look over at him, in the flat, doing his computer whiz stuff, and I don't know, it feels like home. I didn't care about many people at Wammy's, except him and Near and L, and I _hated_ Near. L was something to look up to, you know? But it kind of stung when he gave all the attention to Near, yeah, maybe I was a little irresponsible sometimes, but it's not like I ever killed anyone. It's not like I'm dumb. He should have liked me the same. It's just because Near's a little L-clone, sitting there in his chair like he's L Mark Two and pretending he's in control of everything, like L was. Wake up, Near. _L died. _Being him really isn't the coolest idea right now. Not like he'd stop - he loves L, the only reason he does all that stuff is because he loves him, death isn't going to stop that. Fucking homo. I bet he dressed up in L's clothes when no one else was looking.

Right, enough of Near now, I don't have breath to waste on him. I want to know what Matt thinks. So I get up and go over to him, right, and sit next to him on the floor (only I look cooler, sprawled out in leather; he just looks like a nerd). I just watch him for a few moments. He doesn't even bat an eyelid but I can sense he's watching me out of the corner of his eye, just waiting for me to say something. So I let him stew a little bit, you know, keep quiet. Then he looks up, as if to ask me what I want, and that's when I grab his hand.

He's all shocked at first, and even more so when I bring it up to my face and lay it on top of the scar. He stares at me, all wide-eyed behind the goggles (score! From this angle, I actually get to _see_ his eyes), and then sort of swallows nervously.

"Mells-" He says, but I was waiting.

"You were curious, weren't you?" I say quickly, cutting him off. A pause. His eyes flicker downwards.

"Yeah."

"There was an explosion." I say, still not letting him move his hand. "Fucking Kira. That's why I wanna nuke this bitch. Light Yagami. We're gonna bring him down, right?"

"Right." Matt says quietly. I let go of his hand but he keeps it there for a moment, apparently fascinated by the rough skin. Then he lets his hand drop when his laptop beeps, and quickly gets immersed in it and whatever he's doing.

I watch him for a bit, but it's boring. It's just tap-tap-tap on the keyboard, wait for something to happen, tap-tap-wait, tap-tap-wait. So I stretch out on the floor, hands behind my head, looking up at the ceiling.

Within minutes I'm frowning again, and yeah I know I get angry easily, but this Light guy is really pissing me off in some kind of spectacular way. It's just a good job he doesn't know Matt's here. Or should I say Mail. Shit, I hope no one else knows his name. Anyone who knows could betray him, get him killed, whether they meant to or whether Kira planned it, so he's in danger now, too…

"Matt." I sit up, looking at him, a bit worried now (but of course I'm always eager to deny it).

"Only you know my name." He says. I'm a little taken aback, didn't think he would guess that quick, so I'm quiet; he looks around at me. "Worried, Mells? Didn't know you cared so much."

"Fuck you." I snarl, laying back down. "Just didn't know you were a mind-reader all of a sudden."

Matt chuckles. "You're just predictable. No wonder Kira's been running circles around you."

Too far. I get up and glare down at him, and pull my gun, because I'm really angry now. He just looks up at me through those stupid goggles and sighs. Then he goes back to his work. Way to make me feel guilty. I shove the gun back where it came from and storm out, into the bedroom, only to find it littered with various PSP games already. How irritating. I just sweep them all onto the floor and walk out onto the balcony. That's the one advantage of having a flat like this - the balconies. Not that there's anything to see.

Behind me, I hear Matt burst into the room and start gathering up the games, making sure I didn't hurt his precious little time-wasters. Then he comes out onto the balcony after me.

"You could have broken them." He says, all sulky, like it's me that's in the wrong. He started it.

"I don't care." I mutter. He comes to stand beside me, and we look out over this foreign land together, all the lights glittering and stuff. It's quite nice, I suppose. It's nothing like back at Wammy's, which is the most important thing, I guess. It's the sheer difference that hits you.

"You do care." Matt says quietly.

"Says who?" I look at him sharply.

"I do." He says. "You care. You just can't admit it."

Then he walks off, and leaves me, just like that. When I called him earlier… I never thought by the end of tonight, he'd be making a psychological analysis of my feelings and guessing everything I say before I've said it. I never thought he would dare.

Most of all, I never thought he'd be _right._

* * *

MATT

When will Mells learn? I know him inside out, I know everything about him, except his name. Nearly everything. At least, I know a lot. See, he's confusing, is Mello. It's like, just when you think you've figured him out, finished the game, there's some kind of side quest and you realise there's a whole part of him you've never seen before.

After his little outburst (the games survived; thank God), I just went back to the laptop. We're on a mission here, and I want to catch Kira as much as he does. I never realised it was so serious. I'd heard the news, of course, and a little from Roger or L, when he was still alive, but both Near and Mello just stopped calling me when they got to Japan. It was lonely. I was so glad when Mello said he wanted me out here, and now he's being all…

I need a cigarette. I pull one out of a pocket, with my lighter, and light up in Mello's living room. He's going to get crazy at me for it, but I need one to settle my mind.

Within seconds I see him go back into the bedroom and come to the door, sniffing the air like there's a sewer leak. Then he spots the smoke and glares at me - I hate it when he glares at me like that, it gives me the shivers.

"Matt." He says, and there's a warning tone in his voice. I'm just about to give in and put it out when something unexpected happens. The phone rings.

Mello lunges across the room and grabs it like it's trying to kill him, and puts it to his ear.

"Hello?" He says, and a second later his face crumples into this annoyed expression of hate. "Yes, Near, what do you want?"

* * *

MELLO

Just had to be Near, didn't it. I thought it might be something exciting, like Kira himself ringing up to taunt me a bit. I wouldn't mind that, so long as he kept talking enough to let Matt triangulate the call and find out where the bastard is. Or even someone from the Mafia, that might be nice, we could meet up for tea and biscuits and a chat about classical music, and knit sweaters together. Yeah, okay, that was laying the sarcasm on a bit thick, but my point is I really didn't want to talk to Near.

"How's Matt?" That was the first thing he said. As soon as I heard his voice it started grating on me. SHUT UP, that was my first thought. I could _hear_ him twiddling his hair. What kind of _freak_ is he?

"Yes, Near, what do you want?" I growl, not wanting this conversation at all.

"I just thought you might want to know."

Pause. I'm waiting for him to embellish on this. He doesn't.

"You thought I might like to know _what_?" I spit, bitter that he's able to make me play his game like this.

"That we are winning." Near says, with such barely-concealed glee and pride it makes me want to punch him.

"Winning?" I bark, annoyed beyond words. What does he mean, _winning?_

"We have discovered the true identity of Kira, and are in the final stages of capturing and subduing him."

"_What_?"

Matt looks up from his laptop. I can't hide what I'm thinking. Near can't do this. He can't beat me. No. There's no way. _I'm_ the one who's supposed to win_. I'm_ the one who's supposed to be the new L.

"You're welcome to come to the investigation headquarters, if you would like to watch."

I slam the phone down and grab my jacket off a chair.

"Matt, we're leaving. Drop everything. I don't care what it is. We need to get to investigation HQ _now_."

"Now?"

"NOW."

Matt jumps up from his laptop, without even shutting it down or stopping the program. It's at times like this I really appreciate having him on my team. I know he had to, because I know his name and everything, but I like to think he'd side with me anyway. I need him, you know, to balance everything out. Only it looks like it was too little, too late. Which is really fucking typical, let me tell you.

Long story, short; we get on the bike and go to the police place. L's place, as it used to be. Light Bastard Yagami's place, now, I guess, but not for long. When we burst in on the scene, he's standing in a corner, as far away from everyone else as possible, and everyone's glaring at him like he's Kira. Because he is.

"Glad you could join us." Near says in his girly little voice, twirling his hair round one finger and holding a black notebook in my direction. I take it, expecting there's maybe some evidence inside or something, but as soon as I do I see this big fucking monster in front of Light. Like, BIG. And his eyes are like nothing else. It's freaky. But I read those messages too _- L, Do you know Gods of Death love apples_ - and I know what this guy is. He's a shinigami.

I hand the notebook over to Matt and he starts back too, mumbling something about Digimon or something like that, how am I supposed to understand him when he's in gamer mode? He's such a nerd sometimes. So then we're all just looking at Light, me and Matt and Near and the shinigami and everyone. And we all know he's Kira.

He goes up to the Death God guy, he's talking some crap about writing our names down, not that I really get that at all. But the monster's holding a notebook just like the one Matt's got, and he opens it, right, and glances over at Near. And Near gives this tiny little nod. What, so even Gods take their orders from Near now? Fuck that! The pretentious little prick probably thinks he's taking over from Light, God of the New World and all that shit. He's deluded. He's seriously deluded.

Then - and I can't believe I'm seeing this - Light just grabs his chest and starts yelling, and drops to the floor, and in thirty short seconds it's all over, and Near's won.

Shit. Guess this means me and Matt are out of a job.

* * *

A/N: That's the first lesson over with! You may notice this is very Mello-centric at the moment, but later on Matt will get his chance for a lead role. Don't worry - it may look dark right now, but that's not the end of our favourite duo ;)

As always, your reviews are appreciated! Please let me know what you think!


	3. A Lesson In Rebuilding Part A

A/N: This is my last update before I'm back in Sixth Form for five weeks, so hope that I don't get too much homework :D Here begins the second lesson! Matt-centric, as promised :)

* * *

Chapter Three - A Lesson In Rebuilding A

MATT

Game over.

That's all I was thinking when I saw Kira crumple to the floor, and later found out that two other "secondary" Kiras had also been caught and dealt with. Game over. We lose. All of it was for nothing, me and Mello slaving our asses off, hacking databases and not smoking and not playing games - for nothing. We lost everything, and Near was the new L. It had to be one of them, right? It had to be Mello or Near. And afterwards, I guess Near kind of assumed that me and Mells would want to join him. He asked us if we wanted to form part of his team, or to take over as Coil and Deneuve. Mello just stood there. One of his eyes twitched. So before he could say anything, I stepped forward.

I took a long drag on my cigarette, blew the smoke out slowly and deliberately, my eyes fixed on Near.

"No thanks." I said, and turned and walked out of the investigation centre.

Then I heard the shots, so I ran back and dragged Mello out, but that's not the point. At least no one got hurt. I think the Matsuda guy almost wet himself, but it was alright in the end. They forgave him. I think.

The point is, after that happened it was just the two of us, alone, stranded, just me and Mells. We didn't have Wammy's House any more, because all that could give us was L. And L was kind of taken. We didn't have the original L or Wammy himself or anyone to hide behind. It was just the two of us.

The first thing we did was go home, really. We were both kind of bummed out. Mello just sat on the roof for a while, I tried to talk to him but he wouldn't even look at me. A pigeon flew past and he took a shot at it. I guess it shows how close we've grown that he didn't take a shot at _me_, not that it would be the first time if he did. But that's just Mello, you know? Part of me loves him for it.

Love. That's a… funny concept. I'm not sure I understand it. But I do know I care more about Mells than anyone else in the world, he's my best friend, truth be told he's my _only_ friend. But that doesn't devalue it at all. It just means I wanted him as my friend rather than anyone else I've ever met. So I have to look after him, even though I know I'll always be the lesser one in this relationship. I'll always be inferior. But it doesn't matter, so long as I'm with him and we can have fun together and we can do what we do. I smoke and game and hack computers, he shoots and swears and eats chocolate. That's _us_, and we're good at it. There's no need to change a thing.

But something has changed. We don't have a purpose any more. We were raised to be L, and now we're surplus to requirements. I get on my laptop and make sure all the money from our Wammy accounts is wired to a new, private, joint account. It's secure. At least we have something. Even if we have no home, no friends, no job, no purpose, at least we have _something_.

When he gets down off the roof, after hours and hours of brooding, Mello seems really down. I mean REALLY down. I've never seen him this way before. He looks like death warmed up. I guess this is what happens to the ones who aren't the heroes, isn't it? All those Pokemon trainers you have to beat, and the Pokemon League, when you beat them at the end, how do they feel? And I guess they feel like this. Inadequate. Worthless. You finally found that one thing you were good at, but someone else was better.

He kind of slouches through the lounge and slumps down on the edge of the bed. So I follow him, put down the gameboy next to the PSP and power down the laptop for a while. He's not even eating any chocolate, so I pick up a bar from the side as I go through.

I sit down on the bed next to him and unwrap the top corner of the chocolate, and wave it under his face. He pushes it away. I shrug, and put the corner in my mouth instead and bite it off. He glances up at the snap, looking kind of jealous. I wave it under his face again but he just ignores it. God, this is bad. I've never seen him turn down chocolate twice.

"Mells?" I say softly. I don't want to break the silence, but I can't just leave him. He looks up, says nothing. "You don't want this?"

"No." He whispers hoarsely, and looks away again. "I don't want any of it."

I put the chocolate down on the bedside table and opt for another tack. "Look. We'll sort it out. We can start over, make our own name."

Mello shakes his head, as if in denial.

"Come on," I continue. "It's not that bad. We can be better than Near. This was just one case."

"Matt." He just says my name, just once, like that, but the emotion in his voice is so strong I can't even think about saying anything else. "Shut up."

He leans forward a little and puts his gloved hands over his face and starts to shake, and I realise with the utmost horror that he's crying.

"Oh, Jesus, Mells," I say, putting my arms around his shoulders and drawing him close to rest his head on mine. "It's gonna be alright, I swear."

He just lays there and cries for a while, and then after some time has passed he stops shaking so much and raises his head and looks at me.

"Can we sleep?" He mumbles, looking down, suddenly shy, the raw emotion still shading his face. I just nod because he should know by now, there's nothing I wouldn't do if he asked me, except maybe quit smoking, and even then I'm not sure. We end up sleeping fully clothed, him wrapped in my arms still and resting with his head nestled in the curve of my shoulder. Like lovers? No. Like children.

There's one thing I know for sure. He's seen his parents die, he's lost his home country and been moved to an orphanage where he hates everyone, he's been in trouble with the mafia and shot at and had half his face and arm burnt off, but Mello has never cried like that before. Never. So I'm not going to offer any complaint, no matter what form of comfort he wants. I'm just going to do it, so he can get better.

* * *

MELLO

I just can't deal with this. I just can't. I mean, what the _fuck_? We're nothing now. How could _Near_ win? I swear, I should walk up to headquarters and just shoot that albino bastard, see who's winning then… God, I…

I feel like I'm falling to pieces. My whole life I've dreamed of being L. Of being someone. Now I'm all alone, and I have nothing, nowhere to go, or… Matt, at least I have Matt. He'll never leave me. I'll kill him if he leaves me. He can't.

He won't. I'm all he's got too, yeah, it's the two of us against the world. I don't care if the world's been winning, it ends here. I will never lose another case. Never. I swear it.

But how can I get another case? I'm not a detective. I'm not even a policeman. I'm just this stupid German orphan who grew up in England, with a gun and a fucking temper. Who's going to trust me with a case? And Matt, he may be less trigger-happy but he isn't more responsible, he still looks like a teenager. Everything's gone wrong. Everything's lost.

Everything's just… God. Help me.

So when I'm lying there in Matt's arms (and if you say anything about that being gay then you can fuck off, I'm not gay) I do the only thing I can think of: I hold on to my rosary and pray.

* * *

MATT

Mells sleeps for a long time. He's exhausted, I think. Emotionally. I don't think he's ever felt this bad. It scares me a bit, like he might do something stupid. Kill someone, or… or… no, I can't think like that. He might be a bit reckless sometimes but he's learnt the value of life, several times over, he wouldn't throw it away. At least I hope not.

When he does wake up he stirs slightly, and then lays still. His breathing pattern has changed, so I know he's still awake, but he lies there for a while longer. I think he just needs the comfort. I'm all too happy to provide.

Eventually he moves and sits up, and runs a hand through his hair, then mutters something about a shower. I let him go, then head through to the lounge, stretching out my arms as I go. Mello's not all that uncomfortable, actually. Surprisingly. Somehow it seems like under all the leather, his skin must be the same texture, or spiky or something, but it's not. Not that I've been beneath the leather. Ah… that came out wrong.

I quickly turn the laptop on and start setting things up. I have my own company, not that anyone else knows this, writing programs and fixing stuff for big companies. It gets in a bit of money, and it's fairly easy stuff, and I can do it totally anonymously. I mostly set it up to occupy my time while Near and Mello and L and everyone were away, but I temporarily closed it when Mello called me over. I go to the site, open it back up again, and it's ready to go. I get a couple of jobs straight away, I'm pretty in demand. I start work on one while I'm waiting for Mells to get out the shower, and I'm typing away for a good half hour before I realise he's not back yet.

Which is odd. I mean, Mello, he's the kind of person that can be under the water for less than a minute and yet always come out perfectly clean, so he doesn't take long showers. I pause with my hands suspended above the keys, halfway through a command. Where is he? The water's still running.

Oh, God, no. Not now. I get up and run to the door. It's still closed, so, hesitating, I knock on it as loudly as I can.

"Mells?"

No answer.

"Hey, MELLS!" I yell it, but there's still no answer. Shit, this is bad, this is really really _bad_. There's only one thing for it.

I take a couple of steps back, use a bedpost and a chest of drawers to support myself, and kick the door as hard as I can. It takes three kicks to break down, and I'm in, and that's where I see him, on the floor of the shower, laid there all curled up with the water running across his face.

* * *

A/N: Ooh, cliffhanger. I love those.

Reviews appreciated!


	4. A Lesson In Rebuilding Part B

A/N: Here we are again, finally finishing off that cliffhanger :) Hope you enjoy this. I'm so busy right now…

* * *

Chapter Four - A Lesson In Rebuilding Part B

MATT

Oh, God, NO. Not Mello. Not now.

I run to his side, truth is it feels like I fly there, I don't care about anything but him right now and everything's going so fast, yet so slow at the same time. I check for blood but I can't see any. Where's his gun? No, I would have heard that. Pills? Do we have pills? I touch the side of his face. His eyes are open, but he's not looking at me. I'm getting soaked. I don't care. I don't care about anything. I just want him to look at me and move and get up and be okay.

"Mello, Mello, look at me, Mello?" I keep saying his name over and over, I'm worried out of my mind, what has he done? What has he done to himself? Slowly, really slowly, like he's made of clockwork and not flesh and bone, his eyes look up to mine. They were blank but as soon as we make eye contact I can see all this pain there, so much pain that it's impossible.

"Oh, God, Mello." I whisper, on the verge of tears, still with one hand on the side of his face, pushing his hair back. He moves his lips as if to speak but nothing comes out.

I get up for a moment to turn the shower off, and find a towel on the floor next to it. I kneel back down and drape the towel around his shoulders, and I just keep whispering things to him, I don't even know what, but I just want him to know it will be okay. When he's wrapped up I reach forward and lift him up. He's older than me but he's also skinnier, so I can lift him without much difficulty, especially without the usual extra weight of guns and leather and chocolate. I carry him out and lay him on the bed. As I'm letting go one of his hands gathers around the neck of my shirt, hanging on, and his eyes haven't left mine yet.

"It's alright, I'm not going anywhere, I promise." I say to him, and he lets go, although there was no strength in his fist anyway. It was just a gesture, futile and hopeless, but something inevitable, instinctual. He just doesn't stand a chance on his own. Because he's never been this alone before; even when he was with the Mafia he knew he could leave at any point and come back to me or Near or Wammy's House. But now there's nowhere left to turn.

"Did you do anything?" I ask, not sure if I want to hear the answer. He shakes his head slowly and I sigh in relief, and push the hairs back out of his eyes again.

"Listen, Mells. Don't scare me like that again. Seriously. I thought you were…"

Something flickers in his eyes, and it's like he didn't think I would care or something, like he's surprised. But how can that be true? Surely he knows I… But… but maybe he doesn't. I always took for granted that he knew, but…

"Mells." I say. "You do know you're my best friend, right? And that I care about you more than anything else in the world, PSP included?"

The biggest reward I could ever get for saying anything was just to see him slowly smile, even though he's soaking wet and full of all that sadness, to smile up at me with his eyes saying "Thank you".

* * *

MELLO

I don't know what I'm going to do.

I don't know where I'm going to go.

But I know that Matt will be with me, and it's enough, for now.

I wonder if he knows that he just saved my life.

He's my best friend, too. And I never thought I would need him more than anything else, I never thought I would depend on him like this. I can't even resent that. I should. I know I should. But I can't.

Everything feels empty, except for Matt. Mail. My Mail. Maybe there is something worth living for after all.

* * *

MATT

As soon as he seems alright, tucked warmly between the sheets, I slip into the other room and grab my laptop. I take it into the bedroom and sit and watch him fall asleep, solving corporate problems with my fingertips, not really paying attention. When he's been asleep for a couple of hours I finish one last problem and check my bank account. It looks like we have enough.

I didn't want to worry him, but in three days the rent we paid already runs out. I don't think he wants to stay here anyway. It's bad for him. I don't want a repeat performance of what just happened.

And somehow it's only now that I realise what _did_ just happen. Mello was in the shower. Therefore he wasn't wearing any clothes. And now I can remember the feel of his skin through the thin towel, and his hand grasping my shirt. I feel the slightest stirring within myself, and… no. No, I don't feel that way. I don't. Do I? I do. I do.

It's not as if I'm gay or anything. It's just… Mells… he's different. I don't know what this means. Christ.

To distract myself, I go back to the bank account. Yeah, there's enough. I go out into the other room, carefully closing the door, and spend the next few hours surfing the web and making calls. I've got enough cash to be able to speed the process up a little, and I enlist Roger's help via email at one point where the paperwork could take months. Not any more. By the time Mello wakes up it will all be ready.

Since I'm done now, I work a little more and then go back to watching him sleep. I nod off myself for a little while, but I still wake up before he does. He must be exhausted. With a small smile I realise I haven't played a game or smoked all day. Mello's enough for both addictions, I think. He's stronger than them.

When he eventually stirs he looks at me for a while with these big, sleepy eyes. I can tell he's totally awake and alert, though. I meet his gaze and we stay like that for a while, then he rubs a hand over his face and sits up in bed.

"I'm sorry." He mutters quietly.

"I know." I say. "It's alright."

"I didn't mean to…"

"I know."

"Right." He nods, just once, as if that concludes the entire matter. "We've got to leave soon, haven't we?"

I nod, and smile. "Yes. But I've organised everything."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that everything's ready." I lift several print-outs from beside my chair, handing them to him one at a time.

"Plane tickets for LA?" He says, reading out what he's seeing. "Why are we going there?"

I just smile and hand him the next sheet.

"Deeds for… for… hang on. Are you saying this is our house?"

He holds up the photograph of a gorgeous five-bedroom three-bathroom modern house with a swimming pool in the backyard and quite a distance between it and its neighbours, and I nod. He stares at me a moment, then back to the photograph, then back to me.

"Well, _fuck_." He says. "You're useful after all."

"There's more." I say, handing him the next sheet.

"Verschmelzen?" He queries, reading the title. "A new… private detective…?"

"Otherwise known as Mail and Mihael Inc." I grin. This is the kingpin in my plan. "Let me explain. I was thinking of our assumed names, how if you put Mello with Matt you can make melt. So I put melt into an internet translator, and out of what came up I though Verschmelzen was great, even though it actually means… to blend or merge, right? Which makes sense, because we _are_ merging into one name. And of course it's German for you."

"Okay, de-nerd for a little." Mello says. "Private detective?"

"Yes." I say. "Welcome to your new career. Objective: Become a better detective than Deneuve, Coil, and L combined."

He stares at me for a moment, and then grins. One of those trademark scary-ass Mello grins where you know in the next moment he's either going to shake your hand or shoot you. Thank God he has no reason to shoot me. Also, thank God he didn't notice that I found out his real name.

"So when does the flight leave?" He asks.

"In about six hours." I say. "Time to pack. I've arranged for your bike to go as cargo. So let's pack, and then get on it."

"Right." Mello says. "Let the new era begin."

* * *

A/N: This is the end of lesson two, so next week look forward to lesson three :) a lot of exciting things are going to happen! While I was writing this I was listening to old Oasis, Wonderwall and stuff, haha. It fits really well.

Thanks for reading, now please review! You know how us fanfic-ers thrive on reviews :3


	5. A Lesson In Betrayal Part A

A/N: This begins lesson three, and the main point of the story. From now on everything will be set at Verschmelzen HQ! Enjoy, and please review!

* * *

Chapter Five - A Lesson in Betrayal Part A

MELLO

I gotta hand it to Matt. When he sets his mind on something, he sets his _mind_ on something. He won't let anything stop him, he's like a bulldog who's just smelt a cat.

So here we are in our new, swanky LA residence, paid for out of our joint account, about to begin our new business enterprise, financed by Matt's computer skills. Who'd ever have thought they would come in so handy? I mean for solving cases they're invaluable, but to be able to get this much money, too? The man's a genius. But I didn't say that if he asks. He doesn't need an ego.

We have a pool in our backyard. A fucking _pool_. It's amazing. The house looks great. And if you've got a great house in LA then you've gotta have money, right? And if you've got money, then a lot of people use your company, right? And if a lot of people use your company, you're good at what you do, right? At least that's what people think when they see where we live. It's working, too, because today we have our first case.

Matt took the call this morning, some rich bitch who lost her Daddy a week ago. We invited her over straight away and she came within the hour. She's pretty-ish, but I wouldn't fuck her. She's like a twiglet, she'd snap if I even touched her. I swear she was wearing a Chanel mourning dress. Makes me sick. She obviously only wants us to help because it will make the news.

So as I was saying, her Daddy, Richie Rich, got topped last week and so far the police have nothing. Not that that's surprising, I mean just look at the state of the world today. Get some geniuses in the police force, get them solving mysteries, not the street plodders who are only good for the beat. I don't see Stephen fucking Hawking in a uniform. He could sit behind a desk and solve all their crimes. More money for us if he doesn't though, and I can't complain about that.

So about this broad. Daddy dearest was found with a dent in the back of his head from some sort of large object, presumably the heavy lamp laying on the floor next to him; the shapes matched, so the police are saying that's what killed him, although we haven't received details of the autopsy yet. He's some kind of big shot movie maker, I don't mean he was a director, he just worked with people. Doing what? I have no idea. There was a job title, but I forget. Doesn't matter.

She was all "Sniffle-sniffle-We only want what's right for Daddy-sniffle". Pathetic. I asked her how much she was getting from his death but she claimed not to know. Of course she fucking knows. She's probably spent half of it already. She had diamonds in her hair. Mourning? What a load of bullshit.

Anyway, so she gave us all the details - time, place, which police officers are involved and so on. Apparently he didn't have any enemies. Yeah, right. Everyone has enemies. Especially rich people.

So, like, I don't know, Matt's organising something or something. Whatever, I leave the details to him, it's what he does. So long as I get the info and the access, it's fine by me.

* * *

MATT

This is going great. Our first case already! As soon as I get the guy's full name - Richard Appleby - I hack the coroner's office and get all his stats. Heart in good condition, no cancer, no diseases, lungs healthy, blood pressure slightly higher than is recommended. Apart from that, all there is is a big dent in the back of his head and - and this is the interesting part - a hatpin pushed into the side of his neck. The office, and the police, are assuming it had been left on the floor or on a nearby table and he caught it as he fell. It was in pretty deep.

I make a few more hacks and get some pictures of the original crime scene. It's not pretty. The girl, Naomi, tells us that everything has been left as it was when the police finished in there, because her and her mother are too upset to go in. I don't trust her, but she's pretty. Her wrists are so thin, it makes me think she's too fragile to be going about the world without a father. But what do I know? I'm just an orphan, right?

She agrees to allow us access to the scene in two hours, and we start to organise payment. I'm not going to give away the details, but it's a lot of money. If this goes well we'll be on the way to mega-richness. I can't wait to see Mello solve it. Because, of course, it will be him, not me. I'm not as good at this as he is.

* * *

MELLO

Man, this is awesome. She's so desperate that we keep the investigation quiet that she's paying us above industry average. For our first job. Plus it's all expenses paid, so she sends us her car and driver to get to the house. Which is big. Really big.

Her mother is this ample old dame with black sequins and a cigarette holder, like something out of a movie. Not a very good movie. These people are so fake.

Matt gets rid of them into another room for a while (I would have just told them to piss off, so he wouldn't let me) and we examine the room he died in, and his bedroom. The crime scene's been cleaned out by our friends in the law enforcement sector, but the bedroom is a little more interesting.

He has this big old bedside chest of drawers, and on the other side is a matching one for his wife. Matt takes the wife one because he's pretty much a woman anyway. So then I'm going through the drawers, and I find something.

"Hey Matt," I say casually, "You ever hear of a movie man like Mr Rich Boy wearing a pink, flowery, silk scarf?"

"Nope." He says. "Why?"

"Because he has one in his underwear drawer." I bring it to my nose. "And it smells like roses."

Matt comes over and looks at it, and agrees that it's more than a little suspicious. After a few moments' discussion I pocket it, zipping it into the leather. They won't notice. Besides, they hired us, and this is evidence.

We only find one other thing in the room. A white shirt with the faintest little hint of red on the collar. Matt takes some snaps of it with a handheld, and then we go back to Mrs Rich and Little Miss Brat. Matt makes some polite speech about leaving to continue our investigations.

"One more thing." I cut in, addressing Mrs Sequins. "Do you wear red lipstick?"

"At my age?" She laughs vilely. "No, dear, no. It's far too bright."

We exchange a meaningful look (Me and Matt - I'm not exchanging anything with _her_) and get the hell out of there before we catch something.

* * *

MATT

Back at the house, I print off the crime scene shots, the pictures of the lipstick, and some of the dead guy at parties and suchlike, and lay them out with the silk scarf. This is our evidence. I print off a copy of the coroner's report, too. So now we have to figure out who killed him using a lipstick trace, a hairpin, and a scarf. Great.

Together we make a list of things to do. Find closest friends, interview them, find owner of lipstick, find owner of silk scarf, interview her/them. Find murderer. Not much, then. We pore over the photographs and Mells points out the same person in two of them, a man of about the same age as Appleby with a bad toupee and the biggest set of teeth I've ever seen in my life.

"Get me him." He says.

Right. So that means I'm supposed to find out who this guy is, where he lives, get in contact with him and convince him to come round for an interview… all on my own? Gee, thanks, Mells.

No option but to get to work, so I do, while Mello raids the pantry for some more chocolate and starts flicking through some sort of catalogue. Probably Leathers R Us or something. Not that I care about him wearing leather. It must be uncomfortable though. I mean, think about it. And he always stuffs his gun down the front of his pants… I mean… SURELY that's uncomfortable? And how does it even fit? I don't… ugh, I've got to stop thinking about this, it's not healthy. Mello can keep his mysteries mysterious. I have work to do. His work. This partnership thing isn't really working out fairly.

At least he's not sitting on the roof all night, though, or taking over-long showers. Actually, I'm happy to do whatever he wants me to if it keeps him alive. And he hasn't even tried to join the mafia again yet. He better not, anyway, because one scar is more than enough. He might start scaring off the customers if he gets too many. Besides, despite the scar he's still quite good-looking, and he's got a decent body, so it would be a shame for him to ruin that. Not that I care. What am I saying?

I focus on finding the friend from the picture. The caption gives me a place and a date, and some surfing of the web eventually rewards me with a caption that reveals his name. Arthur Archer.

Fighting back a snort at how silly his name sounds, my attention is distracted yet again as Mells claps me on the shoulder.

"I'm going out." He says. "See you."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading… Please review! I can't wait to get started on the next chapter :)


	6. A Lesson In Betrayal Part B

A/N: Oh god, I'm so busy right now! I don't even know when I can next update… I'm going to the British Grand Prix next week, Wednesday all the way through to Monday, and I have an art trip as well… It will probably be two weeks before I can write anything at all, which is really annoying :( I'll see how far I can get before I go, though.

* * *

Chapter Six - A Lesson in Betrayal Part B

MELLO

Walking through the city at night is stimulating. It gets the blood flow going. It gets the heart pumping. You know what's better? Standing on the top of a building you just had to break into so you could look over everything, eating chocolate, letting the cold moonlight show you for the cold bastard you really are. Fuck, yes. Standing on the highest point all around so you can look over everyone who's beneath you, saying to the world, Yes. This is me. You don't like it? Fuck off. Go find someone who cares. Because this - _this_ is _me_.

It's a habit of mine. Some kind of power trip, you might think. I don't care. It's just my way of being me. Then coming home to Matt, to a friend, someone who will always be there no matter not. The only other person who truly knows me.

Tonight I'm feeling good. When I get home I push through the doors and find Matt (sulking, most likely) stretched out across the floor with a cigarette in his mouth and his gameboy securely in the "on" position. There's also a pile of documents next to him. He doesn't even glance up when I enter the room.

"You're smoking inside." I point out, a little out of habit, because I'm in a good mood and I guess if it really makes him happy then he can smoke.

"Yup." Matt mutters, his mouth curved around the cigarette to hold it in place while he plays. "You left."

"I had stuff to do." I say, crouching down in front of him. "You finish everything I said?"

"Yes." He replies, grumpily. I grin and ruffle his hair. Eventually, probably thinking I'm mad or something, he pauses the game and looks up at me suspiciously.

"What?" I say, still grinning.

"Why do you look like that?"

"Like what?"

"All…" He does an impression of a huge grin, presumably meant to represent the one I'm currently wearing. "What did you do?"

"I went for a walk."

"How many people did you kill?"

I laugh. "Not that kind of walk. A real walk. I didn't even _speak_ to anyone."

He snorts. "That doesn't reassure me. Bullets don't require verbal communication."

"There was no communication of any sort, deadly or otherwise." I say. "What? I'm not allowed to be fucking happy?"

Matt pauses, and looks back at the game grumpily. "No. It's weird. You're acting weird."

"Seems to me that only a really weird person would think being _happy_ is weird." I mock-huff.

"Alright, be happy." Matt sighs. "I'm glad, I didn't mean to sound like I'm not. It's just there's usually a reason."

"There is." I reply, serious again. "And I'm looking at it."

Matt looks up slowly, goofily. He makes me laugh. I ruffle his hair again. It settles right back into place.

"Well, I wouldn't even be here if not for you. So, what's the case update?" I elaborate, still smiling.

* * *

MATT

How_… weird_. Seriously. Mello doesn't get all happy like that, it's not usual. I'm left in shock, seriously. When he asks me about the case I almost don't know what to say. But then I do, because I'm prepared and everything is waiting for his approval.

"Right. The friend from the pictures is Arthur Archer, married to Pauline, a younger English model. She's known as Twinkle in the business, don't ask me why. Anyway, so Archer and Appleby were friends since their youth, and business partners on quite a few ventures. Close friends, you might say. Except Archer didn't show up to the funeral, or the wake. In fact, he was nowhere near."

Mello raises an eyebrow, looking interested, but doesn't say anything. I take this as encouragement to continue.

"Here's the best part: Twinkle didn't go to the funeral either, but she _did_ turn up at the wake. And apparently, she was seen at the graveyard right before she went there. Looks like she went for the private mourning option - bit odd for an attention-seeking model, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah. So, what, she's with Archer for the money?"

"I'd say so." I show Mello a picture of the two of them, him middle-aged and greying, her young and blonde and gorgeous. He whistles between his teeth.

"Yeah, she's definitely fucking him for the money. Which makes me wonder who else she's fucking."

"You're taking that route?"

"Yeah. You're not?"

"Well, I just think we should explore all the options." I say. "For instance, Appleby's latest venture failed. He, Archer, and another man lost considerable amounts of money. The other guy was a silent partner, but I'm working on getting an identity."

"So you think it's money, not sex?"

"That or drugs." I say, and grin. "Appleby's daughter, Naomi, apparently has an expensive habit. I hacked a few emails and it looks like she didn't pay for her last big score. She went into rehab for a few weeks and then just never paid up. I presume she's using again now, but not from the same supplier."

"Interesting." Mello says, and stretches his arms out above his head. "Right. What time is it?"

"Just gone one a.m."

"See you in seven hours, then." He says and gets up and walks out, I'm guessing to bed (although you never can tell with Mello). So I switch off the gameboy for once and finish the cigarette, flicking it into an ashtray. Bed sounds good right about now. Within about ten minutes I'm tucked up nicely, but for some reason I can't sleep easy. I haven't been able to since we got here. I'm getting this growing suspicion that I can't sleep because I'm not near to him any more. In the orphanage he was right next door. In the flat he was right next door, too, sometimes right next to me if we fell asleep while working. Now he's a long way away, right at the other end of the house. I don't like it. It makes me nervous. I had insomnia when I found out he'd joined the mafia. He's a much bigger hazard to my health than smoking. I'm more likely to die of Mello than cancer. One day he'll give me a heart attack. Or, I mean… well. Not in a Kira way. Just in an incredibly stressful and annoying way.

Tossing and turning, I finally manage to sleep, but not before wondering if Mello is sleeping. God knows what he does or where he goes when I'm not with him. He's a mystery to me sometimes.

* * *

MELLO

In the morning I wake a couple of hours early, dress, and go downstairs to wait for Matt. The sun rises while I'm sat at the window. I find myself lost in the colours that spread so slowly across the sky, until I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up to see Matt. His hair is wet from showering.

"It's eight." He says softly. "Time to get going."

"Alright." I get up, and run a hand through my own hair, sweeping it off my skin for a moment. The early morning air coming through the windows is cool on the scar. "Where first, the gold-digger and the businessman or the family to dig for more?"

"Gold-digger." Matt says, not questioning my choice of words. "Car?"

"If we must." I concede, though the motorbike seems more appealing. "Let's go get that bitch."

The drive passes uneventfully, Matt smoking out of the window while I grind chocolate into tiny little pieces. I love the snapping noise it makes. It was hard to learn how to eat and drive at the same time, but I mastered it. Sometimes Matt changes the gears for me. But I always drive.

The gold-digger house is just as impressive as the dead guy's, and a butler greets us at the door. An English butler. It seems Miss Lingerie brought a few home comforts with her.

When we get to see the old guy he's in some sort of smoking room, and instantly offers both me and Matt a cigar. Matt takes it, but I stick to the chocolate. It's nicer. And it doesn't smell quite as bad.

"So, how was your relationship with Mr Appleby?" Matt asks.

"Oh, we were the best of pals. It's such a tragedy, what happened. Rich and I go way back, we were close."

"You knew him well at the time of his death, then?"

"Oh, yes. We never fell out in our lives, not once."

"Alright." Matt looks at me from the corner of his eye. "Then you must know who had a big enough grudge against him to kill him."

"No!" The wealthy idiot exclaims. "Everyone loved Rich. It's a great blow to the community. Only his wife and daughter really gained anything - the money, of course. Everyone else has lost a great businessman."

"Rivals?" Matt suggests.

"No, we always made a habit of looking after those around us. Enemies never helped anyone, but allies can pick you up when you need it. Besides that, the stronger the industry is, the more money we make."

"I see. Well, thank you for-"

"Hey." I cut in, for the first time, leaning in to meet the guy's eyes. "If you were so gay for Richie boy, why didn't you go to his fucking funeral?"

He colours, and looks angry at me. "I resent that implication. We were great friends, _great _friends. I couldn't handle the sight of his coffin. Can you blame me?"

"No, I'm sure that's perfectly acceptable." Matt says quickly, standing up and pulling me up with him. "Thanks for talking to us. And the cigar. It was good."

Before we get glared out of the house we leave, and Matt seems a little pissed off with me. He doesn't say a word about it. Halfway back to the house he finishes a cigarette and goes to pull out another.

"Did you see the pictures?" He says, suddenly, by which I understand he's not pissed off any more.

"Appleby with his arm around Miss England? Yeah."

"What do you think?"

"Exactly what I said before."

"I still think it's money."

"Sure you do."

We look at each other for a moment, and then look away, each hiding a grin we hope the other didn't see. But of course, we did. We don't miss a trick, Matt and me.

* * *

A/N: Please review… I'm falling asleep from writer's exhaustion… Review, I say! This section is turning out to be a three-parter.


	7. A Lesson In Betrayal Part C

A/N: Whew, it's been a long week. I started this right before going off for camping, and then when I got back on Monday it was waiting for me… But I had a hectic week catching up with everything I'd missed. That's why it's a bit late, but I'm still earlier than I hoped I would be. Thanks for the reviews, everyone - they're really keeping me going! Actually, on the subject, I want to thank everyone who has reviewed so far, since this is the end of the first case: So thanks to **Jesi Chan, iridescentxroses, YOURMONONTOAST, Lynxtiger, N.N, Kiogy, Donna Roxz0r, Svaldilfari, EmoAndTheSpazz, **and especially** Catmoongirl.**

Chapter Seven - A Lesson In Betrayal Part C

MATT

"So, you seriously still think Twinkle was having an affair with Appleby?"

"Of course I do. Twix Bar--"

"Twinkle."

"_Twix Bar_ is a fucking model. Who wouldn't do her, given the chance?"

"Me." I reply, giving Mello a disgusted look.

"Really? I'm surprised, given how much you go on about her. Did you spend too long with Near?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, that albino freak is just a little bit too uninterested in girls, if you ask me."

"What, and I am too? Shut up, Mells."

"Just saying, just saying. We're friends, you don't need to hide it."

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, focusing on making sure the ash from the cigarette I'm holding doesn't fall inside the car. "Shut up. Anyway, you have to take a left."

"A left? Where?"

"Back there." I say casually, pointing to the last turning. Mello swears vehemently, and I smirk. Payback. The car performs an abrupt 180, causing more than one driver to reach for their horns, and Mello turns down the road I was pointing at.

"Where are we going, anyhow?" He spits, aggravated by my obviously deliberate 'mistake'.

"To see a man about a dog. Naomi Appleby's drug dealer."

"Naomi? Oh, the Chanel slut. Right."

"You're so disrespectful."

"Since when do you give a fuck?"

"Her father died."

"Boohoo. So did mine." Mello says, turning to meet my eyes. "So did yours, not that that was a bad thing."

"Shut up, Mello."

He snorts and goes back to driving. "Just saying."

"I know you are. But don't."

It gets annoying sometimes, being so close to Mello. He knows too much about me. And I don't know nearly enough about him.

When I came to the orphanage, to Wammy's House, he was already there. And for some reason - I don't know what - Roger told him to look after me. I was about seven. I remember Wammy himself being angry with Roger for putting us together, but then he seemed to understand. I guess we were the only two who could ever put up with being with each other, no one else would stand a chance with Mello and I was too anti-social for the others. I only cared about games. I buried myself in them so I could pretend everything else was just a game, too. The first time Mello hit me I was terrified. I though it would be just like being at home again. For a long time I thought that _I_ was the problem, that Mello and my father wanted to hit me because I was stupid or I'd done something wrong. But when I finally got down to talking to Mello about it, in that unselfconscious way that children have, he made me see it wasn't my fault at all. That some people are just messed up. So after that, I didn't really mind when Mello got violent. I knew it was his problem, not mine. Probably because of that, and because he knew my past, he became more likely to threaten me than actually do anything.

But it still gets really irritating when he drags it all up.

We drive on in silence for a while, until I realise that Mello keeps glancing over at me.

"What?"

He shakes his head briefly, and focuses on the road again.

"Mells." I repeat. This time he looks at me again. "What?"

"Nothing. Just…" Mello sighs. "You make me feel really fucking guilty sometimes."

I stare at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. Which only serves to irritate him further, of course.

"Oh, Mells. That's classic."

"What? Shut the hell up! Jeez, I try and be nice like you're always telling me to, and all I get is this pain in the ass reaction!"

"Alright, alright. Sorry. I just didn't expect that. From you, I mean."

"Whatever. We there yet?"

Oh, hell. I've just realised what I've done. For a second there Mello was being genuine, willing to share his feelings, and… I screwed it up. Now he's slammed his walls back into place, and there's nothing I can do to get past him. I'm so stupid sometimes. I've known him long enough, I should be more careful. I know he can't tolerate being made fun of. Damn it. It's too late now, though, he's clammed up like Near with a new Transformers toy, there's no way I'll get anything out of him.

* * *

MELLO

I don't know why I bother sometimes. That little fucker. Laugh at me, will he? He can laugh at fucking bullets. All I was doing was trying to make him realise I didn't mean it. Well fuck it, maybe I will mean it next time.

The druggie's house is just a couple of roads away so we get there quickly. Then I jump out of the car and stride up to the door, and knock on it with my gun. I can speak this guy's language. Matt's running up behind me all frantic, telling me to put the gun away, but there's no way I'm doing that.

When he answers the door I'm surprised. He's wearing a suit and is clean-shaven, but the jacket is hanging over the banister behind him and his gun holster is out in clear view. I know I was right to show him mine. He looks at the gun and back at my face before saying anything.

"Yes, Ma'am?" He says eventually, in a casual way.

"Fuck you!" I shout, hitting him in the face and pushing him back into his own corridor. "Get inside. I have some questions for you."

"God, Mells!" Matt says, trying to grab hold of my arm. "Calm down!"

"Fuck off. Sit in the car if you can't handle it." I tell him, forcing the guy through the first door we come to. It looks like some sort of lounge, so I make him sit down.

"First things first. How much does Appleby owe you?"

"Nothing." The little weasel replies immediately.

"Don't play games. How much?" I snap at him.

"I'm not playing. It's true. He paid it all off."

"He?" Matt interrupts, leaning closer. "Who's 'he'?"

"Appleby." The dealer replies, giving him an odd look. "That's who you were asking about, right? He paid right before someone knocked him on the head."

"Naomi." Matt says. "We were asking you about Naomi Appleby."

The guy shrugs. "I've never dealt with her, only with him. If she's using the drugs he buys, it's not my problem." He answers. "Anyway, the account got settled. Shame he's dead, but not something I can't recover from."

"Fuck it. This thug didn't do a thing." I say, getting up and letting go of the weasel. Matt looks at me reproachfully, like I give a damn, and I just get up out of there and leave.

Outside, I get straight back in the car and drive home, with Matt sullenly tucked into the passenger seat. Looks like we're one suspect down. But all this, about the drugs and who was paying, is a little unexpected. It seems like there's more digging to be done, but it looks like there's no way I can leave that to Matt and his oh-so-delicate ways.

* * *

MATT

I can't stand it when he gets like that, so unnecessarily violent. People get hurt when he's like that. People die. He doesn't care.

When we're halfway home, he suddenly switched lanes and goes off in a different direction without even saying anything. After a few moments I take a deep breath and decide to try and get some sense out of him.

"Mello? Where are we going?"

"Appleby's house." Mello says, quieter than I expected. "I want to talk to Naomi again."

"Again? About the drugs, this time?"

"Yes. And about the affair her father was having with Twix Bar."

I sigh. "Mello, I still don't think you're right. He had a loving family. Why would he have an affair with his best friend's wife?"

Mello looks at me out of the side of his eye, and says nothing. Somehow I think that I was meant to understand, but I don't. I think he's wrong and I will go on thinking he's wrong, because he is. Twinkle certainly didn't kill Mr Appleby. She's innocent. I may not have met her, but I know she is.

When we arrive at the Appleby mansion Mello doesn't waste a moment before he's at the door, knocking loudly and impatiently to be let in. I reach the door just as it opens and both of us are ushered in to our private audience with Naomi.

"Pauline Archer." Mello says, straight away, before she's even sat down. As she does so, she sighs, and there's a certain defeated look in her eye.

"Yes?" She asks, as if unaware of what he is suggesting.

"When did you find out your father was having an affair with her?"

She looks down at the carpet and folds her manicured hands in her lap, taking a moment before answering. I hold my breath, waiting for her denial, but instead I hear, "A few months ago."

God. He was right. I can hardly believe it, but he was right all along. So, then, if Naomi knew…

"You killed your father?" I say incredulously. Naomi looks up sharply and opens her mouth to speak, but there is no need. Mello gets there before her.

"No, she didn't. She blackmailed her father into supplying her with drugs and letting her out of rehab so that she could take them. Isn't that right, Miss Appleby?"

"Yes." She says quietly, meeting our eyes in turn, not pretending any longer. "Yes, I milked him for all the money I could get. And then, when he refused to give me any more…"

"You told your mother." Mello says, sounding satisfied at a truth well guessed.

"Yes, I did." She replies, and stops, no longer needing to elaborate.

"And I would kill him again if I needed to." Mrs Appleby says from the door, where, it seems, she has been listening all along. "The bastard spent his entire life using me and showing me around town, and I gave him a daughter and a home to return to. Then as soon as I start to form wrinkles he drops me for the next pretty young thing, and doesn't even have the decency to divorce me and give me what I deserve. It's his own mistake. Now I have all his money, and not just half."

Dramatic speeches aside, as the police cart her away it gives me pause for thought. I never thought of love like that before. It's supposed to be magical and happy and make everything right. But this… it's disturbed, and violent. Even a marriage vow doesn't mean eternal fidelity and loyalty. It's brutal. Is love really so dangerous? Is it something that can twist a young, beautiful woman into a bitter murderer within thirty years? Until I saw the look in her eyes I never imagined that real love could have that effect on something. But I saw her face. She loved Richard. She loved him so much that she killed him. And that scares me.

* * *

A/N: As always**, please review**! This is now back onto normal schedule.

* * *


	8. A Lesson in Lying Part A

A/N: Well, after saying that this was back to normal schedule last week, I now realise it isn't. I'm following the general rule of starting to write the next chapter when the last one gets around eighty views, since that seems to be a little less than a week, but I don't know when I'm going to have time and when I won't. Bear with me; there's still four cases to go!

* * *

Chapter Eight - A Lesson In Lying Part A

MELLO

It's the _snap_ that I like best. I leave chocolate in the fridge, especially in hot weather, so that it gets harder, and when I bite into it it breaks, snapping into my mouth. The sound fills any silence. I know that for Matt, it's the beeping and clicking of whatever game he's playing. Or the soft _flick_ of cigarette ash falling to the floor, or an ash-tray, or whatever he chooses to aim at. It distracts. It says more than a silence. It tells whoever isn't speaking that you're _waiting_, and it better not be for much longer.

Today, I am waiting, but there's no one to intimidate. What with the case over, the rich list probably all know our names, but there's nothing so necessary to a detective as a crime. No one's doing anything. This is LA, for fuck's sake - where are all the bad people hiding? What, they went to San Fran for a vacation or something? I want something to set my teeth into, and I don't mean another chocolate bar. I need to solve something. I need to _do_ something, I'm fucking bored. Thrashing Matt at tennis and basketball and swimming in our backyard was alright for a while, but I always win. And then Matt gets this look on his face like it's okay that I won, because he _knew_ that I would win, and he'd been preparing himself for the fall through the whole game. Which pisses me off. Why doesn't he try harder? He's not stupid, he's from Wammy's House, he could master any of that stuff if he tried. But he doesn't. I don't get it. It's lame.

Anyway, I can't just sit around here getting my sugar boost all day, so I wander into the corridor and start looking for him. It's like a goose hunt sometimes. Realising there's no point to searching manually, I head to the nearest intercom and press the "all rooms" button.

"Matt. Where the fuck are you?" I hiss into the sensor. There's a pause, presumably as he gets up and heads to his intercom, which feels like an hour.

"I'm in the kitchen, jeez. You were right next to me a minute ago."

"What?" I stare at the speakers, and then swing round and head back to the kitchen. At first I can't see a thing, then I hear a tiny beep from the other side of the island. Leaning over it, I see Matt sat on the floor under the shade of an overhanging counter-top, playing a really old gameboy. It looks more like a brick.

"Retro?" I say, nodding towards the device, which would probably be more at home on some sort of eighties sci-fi show.

"Retro." Matt confirms. "Mario, the first one. I love the little mushrooms. So much."

"Enough of the mushrooms already, you can wank over them some other time. What's happening in this town?"

"Oh, you know. Robberies and such. Well, one robbery. We got a call this morning."

"What?!" I jump over the counter, not bothering to walk round, and crouch down facing him. "You didn't think to tell me?!"

"Calm, calm, Mels. I just did, didn't I? Anyway, it's just a million-dollar necklace, nothing fancy."

"Just a mi-" I begin to explode, before catching the smirk in his eyes. "That's not funny." I snap, pulling his goggles down over his face to rest on his neck.

He blinks a few times, as if disorientated without them. "Yeah, well. We're going to the victims at one o'clock, right after lunch. I organised a meeting and everything, plus I made a file with what we know so far." He says, pointing off to the side, where a brown folder rests on the floor.

"Matt?" I say, smiling. He looks up, and I ruffle his hair, half to annoy him and half because he made me cheerful. "You're useful, you know that?"

"Yes, useful like a cat who catches rats, or one of those spatula things you use to flip pancakes." He snorts. "Now leave me alone, I'm nearly finished with the last level."

"Nah. Useful like a friend I couldn't live without." I reply, feeling like I ought to be nice to him for once. He glances up and grins boyishly, so I know I said the right thing.

Picking up the file, I read its' contents, handwritten carefully by Matt even though he could have done it just as easily on the computer:

_Two days ago, necklace stolen from house of Ryan Rockaby. Silver chain hung with thirty-three diamonds, as well as one large ruby known as "the Mandalay Ruby", which was the main cause of its extreme value. Rockaby bought it at auction only a few weeks ago, intending to give it to his wife as a gift, but before he could give it to her it was stolen from his office. Placed in locked drawer, but lock was forced, and all alarm systems had been deactivated. No fingerprints. This is all we know as yet._

I smirk. This one looks like fun.

* * *

MATT

See, Mello can be sweet sometimes. Sweet like chocolate, I guess, with all the bitterness of the top-quality dark stuff layered on top. Which, naturally, is what he eats.

He drives us to the crime scene, Rockaby's office, where we get an ID check at the gate, and only allowed through after a guard signs us off on a checklist. Looks like this place is pretty big on security, although clearly not big enough. We park and are met at the doors by a pretty blonde secretary, who takes us up to a waiting room outside the office in question.

"Please wait here." She says, flashing us a bright white smile. She has a Boston accent, I think. "Mr Rockaby will be with you in just a few moments."

As soon as she's gone, Mello snorts and shakes his head. "Well, she didn't get the job for her typing skills."

"What?" I reply, taken aback.

"Did you even see her? He's definitely fucking her."

"You think that about everyone." I scowl, my mind working overtime to figure out why I didn't notice that she was pretty. Her appearance didn't strike me at all. That could have been a vital clue, and I would have missed it. I need to stay alert, stay focused. I get lazy when I know that Mello will solve it all anyway.

"Gentlemen." A deep voice greets us from the office door, which has now opened to reveal a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark blue suit with matching tie. "Thank you for coming. Please, come in and take a seat."

We follow him into the office, and I sit down in front of the desk, Mello choosing to wander around the room while I talk.

"Sir, if you could, tell us your exact movements the last time you saw the necklace." I prompt immediately, wanting to get the ball rolling.

"Well, I had a look at it, to check it was still there, and to admire the ruby." Rockaby replies, sitting down on the other side of the desk. "It was enfolded in a black velvet pouch, and this was then placed into a box made of thick ebony wood, inlaid with cherry. Please, take a seat." He adds the last part in Mello's direction, obviously not used to talking to the backs of people who are examining his ornaments.

"No, do go on." Mello says without turning. "I'm fine."

Rockaby clears his throat, uncomfortable with this refusal, but carries on nonetheless. "I made sure the box was fastened properly, with a little silver clasp towards the bottom, but did not lock it, because the key was in my pocket and I didn't think there was any need to, since it was going into a locked drawer."

"The box was unlocked?" Mello repeats, as if to be absolutely clear.

"Yes." Rockaby says, and pauses before I motion to him to continue. "Anyway, I placed it into the drawer and locked it securely, then checked the drawer. There are only two keys, one of which I keep on my person at all times. The other is on the ring of spares belonging to the guards, which is kept under their eyes at all times."

"Where, exactly?" Mello cuts in again.

"I'm sorry?" Rockaby says.

Mello turns to look at him, for the first time. "Where do they keep it?"

"You saw the shed on the way in, at the gates?" Rockaby says, and at Mello's curt nod he continues. "There is one guard in there at all times, and one on the gate. Inside the shed is a communications desk, with which they can contact my office, my house, my secretary, the police, the fire service, or the ambulance service at the touch of a button. Under the desk is a hidden compartment, which, when removed, reveals the keys hanging inside."

"How often do they use these keys?"

"Not often. The last time was around Christmas, I believe, when I left my own keys behind."

"And they were there after the crime?"

"Yes, and during, the guards assure me. There was no sign of them having been tampered with."

There is a pause, in which Mello sweeps a finger along a shelf and holds it up, as if inspecting for dust. He pulls a chocolate bar out of his packet, unwraps the top corner, and snaps a piece off. Chewing, he approaches the desk, and leans forward, engaging Rockaby in eye contact without flinching.

"Then how would you suggest the thieves got in to the drawer?" He asks, in a tone that is at once delicately questioning and menacing.

"Copies." Rockaby says. "I believe they made copies of my keys at some moment of vulnerability, or else used some sort of method of getting in with a hairclip or some such."

Mello stalks around the desk, and points to a drawer. "That the one?"

Rockaby nods, and Mello squats down in front of it, holding the bar in his mouth as he takes a close look at the lock.

"Well," He says, standing up. "The only way they got in was with a key. Any other method would have become obvious. Check your friends, your associates. One of them may have copied the keys."

He makes a beckoning gesture to me, and I get up, following like the puppy I am, having had almost no input at all. I'm pretty much just his Supporting Character, aren't I? His Dr Watson, his Robin, the dependable-but-not-quite-as-good one. I should be used to it, it's what I've always wanted, really. It's all I've ever aimed for, to be Mello's number two. But now I get here, I can't help thinking that it was supposed to be a bit more than this. I can't explain it. Maybe it's the way he is with me. I don't mind other people seeing me that way, but I know that that's how he sees it too, and he doesn't do anything to hide it. In his eyes I was never going to be anything more than this - but I _could_ have been. I just chose not to. It would be nice if once in a while he would acknowledge that I gave up my own chance at being a somebody to support him.

* * *

MELLO

I don't know what I did, but Matt was silent all the way home. As soon as we got in the door, he pulled his goggles over his eyes and pulled a PSP out of his pocket.

"Don't need me any more?" He said quietly, gesturing towards the PSP as if looking for my permission.

"I was thinking we could go over some theories." I reply, shrugging.

"I don't have any." Matt says, adjusting his goggles slightly at one side and not looking at me. "Besides, you don't need me for that."

"Yeah, I do. I could have missed something." I say, frowning.

"No. You never miss anything. Just come get me when you want me again." He says, heading down the corridor. He goes into a room before I can stop him, and I hear the door close.

Frowning, I head into the kitchen and get some new chocolate. I don't understand Matt lately. He's quiet and serious, always working and never wanting to have fun together any more. I'm telling the truth when I say I need him. He sees things differently to me, he understands feelings that I don't. He's almost innocent, the way he refuses to believe that anyone could be immoral until given proof, like with Twix Bar's affair and that secretary. It's cute. I wish I could keep him that way forever, but already he's changing, seeing all of it happen. That's why I didn't take him to the Mafia with me. That's why I didn't let him get too close to the Kira case. Near and me, we're different. Near's calculating, I don't think he even _has_ a heart, and while he acts like a little boy he really isn't. As for me, I'm the kind of person that would kill an old lady to save myself, no matter whose grandmother she was. Matt, he would probably just let them shoot him instead. I see a hardened gangster, he sees a father. I want him to stay as far away from the cases as possible, but at the same time I couldn't do it on my own. He's my best friend and I need him close to me. That's why I try to push him into some sort of supporting role, like how Holmes always goes undercover without telling Watson. It's less dangerous. If he was hurt and it was my fault, I would never forgive myself.

* * *

A/N: Urgh, this was longer than I expected, I think it's the longest chapter yet. Anyway, please review, as always - I like to hear what people think, so I can improve in the future :)


	9. A Lesson in Lying Part B

A/N: Well, here we are again! Now it's time for me to ask for the help of you, the readers…

You see, this fic doesn't get a lot of views for one reason or another, and therefore not many reviews… and I really like to hear what people think of my writing. If you can help in any small way to let more people see this, I would be eternally in your debt :) Also, don't forget to review! Sometimes it seems like only two people are reading this…

* * *

Chapter Nine: A Lesson in Lying Part B

MATT

I feel… angry. Unexplainably. I know I shouldn't feel angry, of course I shouldn't, but I can't help it. Mello was born this way, because he never knew his family. He's tough and sharp and to the point. But I'm not like that. I can't ever be like that, I don't have it in me. He can emotionally distance himself from everyone we meet and everything we get involved with, but I can't. And the worst thing is that I wonder if he's distancing himself from me, shutting me out. Because I can't shut _him_ out. I can't deny that I care about him, that I would be upset if something happened to him. Something is changing between us. It's like I want to get as close to him as possible, but the harder I try the more walls he puts up in between us.

We eat dinner together in silence, and afterwards I get up and go outside and light up a cigarette. God knows I need one. The cool of the evening is calming, and there are some sort of birds talking to each other in the trees around. I close my eyes and let myself sink away until all that remains is the slow burn in the back of my throat, the poison I need to get through. I let the anger drip away.

When he comes to stand beside me, leaning on the railings of our veranda, quietly, I refuse to be the first to speak. I know that he will wait for me to speak, but I won't.

"Matt?" He says, breaking the silence, and he sounds almost vulnerable, like he isn't sure whether I will accept what he has to say.

"…Yes?" I reply, somewhat taken aback, wondering what is coming.

"You're… you're scaring me." Mello says, and I turn to look at him in surprise, the forgotten cigarette trailing ash over the side of the veranda. "You're changing."

"I'm not changing." I say after a moment, not sure what he means. "I'm just the same as I always was."

"No, you're…" Mello takes a deep breath, and I know this is hard for him, to talk about fear and weakness. "You're different. Earlier, and now… You used to be smiling all the time and laughing and joking, even when something was wrong. Even when I told you to stop. But now you're quiet and… distant. Did I… did I do something wrong, Matt?"

I've been stupid. I look up into his eyes and I see the hurt that was there back in Japan, the vulnerability that I forgot he had shown. I thought he was over it. How stupid! I should have known that this pain, this fear will never leave him.

"No!" I reply, putting a hand to his shoulder. "You've done nothing, I swear, Mello. It's me. It's me, thinking too much. I'm sorry, I promise I'll be back to my old self. I've just been having a funny week."

"It's ever since the last case, isn't it?" Mello says, his blue eyes reflecting troubled waters. "You defended Twinkle, and Mrs Appleby, because you thought that Richard wouldn't betray his wife, and she wouldn't betray him. But then you found out that they had. You're… Matt, I can see the effect it's having on you. You've got such a pure heart…"

"A… a pure heart?" I repeat, wondering where this is all coming from. "Mells, I swear, I'm fine. I promise you. Don't worry about me so much. I'm a grown man."

"I can't help worrying." Mello replies, looking down at the ground. "You mean a lot to me."

"Mells…" I sigh, and, foregoing any more words, draw him into a hug. After a moment I feel him lift his arms to return the favour, and just as I thought things were sorted, I realise those feelings again. The ones I don't understand so much. Why does it feel so good to have his arms around me? Why does my heart race?

And that's when the cigarette burns down to my fingers.

"Shit!" I shout, jumping away, dropping the cigarette and shaking my hand to stop it hurting. Mello takes one look at me, and bursts out laughing.

* * *

MELLO

Matt's an idiot sometimes, but it's funny. I'm glad he's okay. I could never forgive myself if something happened to him because I wasn't paying attention. But we've got a case on the go, and that can't be forgotten either, so the next morning we got up early.

The first thing, of course, was to talk to the guards. We found out who was on duty, and questioned them closely, but found nothing. Not until we were about to leave, and one of them came back for another word. He was a young guy, looked about our age, and unsure of himself. His name was Peter Parkman. Even though I was the one who did the questioning, he went to Matt, and asked to speak to him, so I was forced to just listen through the door.

I heard them sit down, and then Peter cleared his throat, sounding nervous.

"What is it?" That was Matt, getting right down to business.

"Well, you see…" Parkman clears his throat again, before finally getting on with it. "I haven't been honest with you. I was… afraid. Listen, if I tell you what really happened, will I get in trouble?"

"Did you kill anybody?" Matt asks, sounding lazy.

"N- no!"

"Good. We'll do our best to keep you out of trouble, then. Tell me what happened."

"Well, Mister Rockaby, he… he asked me to do something for him, and said I'd get a pay rise if I did it and didn't tell anybody. So I did it. What he told me to do was, to take a little box he gave me and go to a warehouse in town, and give it to a man. The man, he gave me a suitcase full of money, so I gave that back to Mister Rockaby. Then he gave me some of the money." Parkman explains, and I can hear Matt's brain working as much as mine is.

"This box. Ebony wood, inlaid with cherry?" Matt asks.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Because you just solved the crime. Thanks, Peter. You're not in trouble at all. Now you keep that to yourself for a while, until the case is finished." Matt says, and I hear his chair scraping back. He comes out of the room and grins at me, and we go back in to the office block.

"It's solved, then." He says to me, as the secretary leaves us outside again; but I shake my head.

"We have the how, but not the why." I tell him. "Let me handle this, don't contradict me if I lie. I have a plan."

As soon as we go in to see Rockaby, I shake his hand and sit down, looking him square in the eye.

"No leads yet, I'm afraid. Looks like the guards are clean." I tell him, and then flash him a smile. "That secretary of yours is… well, she's something else, isn't she?"

"Oh, yes." Rockaby laughs, grinning back. "Linda Bubblegum is her name, she's a great secretary. Thank the lord she'd gone home when the necklace was stolen, I hate to think what would have happened if she'd tried to stop him."

"Him?" I say, leaning forward, one side of my mouth twisted up into a smile.

"Oh, a figure of speech. So, do you think you'll ever find it?"

"It's possible." I say, leaning back again. "If you admit the affair you're having with Miss Bubblegum, that could be a start."

"What?!" Both Matt and Rockaby exclaim at the same time. I smirk coolly, getting up to trail a finger along a trophy shelf.

"Well, since you bought the necklace for her in the first place, it would help matters if you admitted to it." I say, holding up my finger to show the dust on it. "Your office needs a bit of a clean-out, wouldn't you say?"

Rockaby frowns angrily and opens his mouth, but I cut him off.

"And once it seemed your wife was going to find out, you had to think fast. She saw the ruby, didn't she? And then you asked Peter Parkman, your loyal guard, to take it and sell it on the black market, so that you could say it was stolen. Isn't that right?"

With Matt staring at me in surprise and Rockaby slowly sinking into his seat, pale and shaken, I grin my victory smile.

"Don't worry. The police are already on their way."

* * *

MATT

Christ, he's quick. I realise that it was obvious, in retrospect, but there's no way I could have put things together so quickly. It was amazing. But I can't help but think that this just shows me that once again, I'm too soft, too trusting. I thought it couldn't be possible that he could fake a robbery, or that he could have an affair with his secretary. I was wrong. Again.

After this, and after the Appleby case, it makes me wonder why people bother with love. It's all false. Rockaby lied to the police because his love wasn't strong enough to resist a pretty face - it corrupts everything! He was probably a nice guy before he fell in love. And Bubblegum - she only loved him because he was rich - in fact, I don't think she loved him at all. I'm rich now… does that mean that I'll have to be careful, in case someone pretends to love me just for my money? Everything is so complicated, why can't it be like we were always told it was? Why isn't love just love? I don't understand how these men could cheat on their wives and lie to their families… I… I don't understand how they can hurt them, and…

And I don't understand why my parents didn't love me enough to protect me… how they could… hurt me, their _son_, and abandon me...

* * *

A/N: A leeetle bit emotional this chapter, but I'm sure you can forgive me for that. This case was pretty much open-and-shut, so it didn't need more than this, but the development of the characters was more important. I also hope you liked Linda Bubblegum, who I feel is a fine addition to the ridiculously-named Death Note characters XD

Please review!


	10. A Lesson In Dying Part A

A/N: Thanks to all the people who reviewed last week, it's nice to see some new readers and hear what you think :) I'm glad people pay attention to the author's note, too XD Keep it up, I'd love to hear from you all again!

Also, since we're up to the third case now, it's time for me to thank everyone who's reviewed since case one: **Avellaneda, Catmoongirl, Svaldifari, Blaze Moonlight, kikyo1027, jjwitdaheydiddydiddy, flamablechoklit, Splotchi-chan, FB Edit, Expertease, and Daidokoro chan**. Thanks again!

* * *

Chapter Ten: A Lesson in Dying Part A

MELLO

For fuck's sake. I thought I was getting through to him. I told Matt I care about him, he seemed okay. He promised he would be okay. Which makes him pretty much a liar, because he's clammed up again. He's sitting in his room, playing games, he won't even eat dinner with me. He just gets the food and takes it right back upstairs, then returns the plates when he's done. It's like he thinks I won't notice how he's feeling if I don't see him. But of course I notice. I can't believe he broke his promise so quickly. Doesn't he care that I worry about him? I need to know what's wrong with him, because otherwise I'm just going to worry.

I go up to his room and knock on the door, which is closed. There's no reply, except a few beeps from some game or other, so I knock louder.

"Go away, Mello."

I roll my eyes impatiently. "What are you, thirteen? I'm coming in." I try the door handle, but it won't budge. "What the fuck? Have you locked me out?"

"Yes." His voice floats back through the door, muffled and low. "I don't want to talk to you."

"Why not?!" I snap. "What the hell is wrong with you? I haven't done anything!"

"I know you haven't."

"Then why are you punishing me?!"

There was a pause, a silence, and then Matt spoke again, and I could tell he had moved to the other side of the door.

"I'm not punishing you."

"Then let me in."

"No. I'm sorry. I want to be alone." His voice sounds lower down than it was before, so I assume he's now sat down with his back against the door. I slide down too, resting my head against the wood.

"Please talk to me." I say.

"Mello, why do you… why do you care?"

"Because you're my friend."

"But…" Matt's voice breaks, and I think he's crying. I wish he would just open the door. "But I'm not worth it."

"What? Where is this coming from, Matt?"

"I'm… not as clever as you, or as good at solving cases. I don't understand things the way you do. I'm not as good-looking as you, or… I'm… I'm not good enough…"

"Matt!" I say, turning to talk to the door again, resting my hands against it. "Of course you're good enough! If you weren't, I'd still be with Near. And you _are_ clever, but we just see things in different ways."

"I… don't believe that."

"Matt?" I say desperately, trying to make him understand. "Can't you see? If I didn't appreciate you then I would just cut you away like everyone else. But I do appreciate you. You're my best friend; my _only_ friend. The only person who's good enough for me."

There's a few moments of almost-silence, Matt sniffling quietly, and then I hear a key turning in the lock. The door swings open and Matt's there, with his goggles on; but they don't hide the red marks of tear tracks on his cheeks. I stand up to his height, and reach out and pull the goggles off his face.

"You can't bottle things up, Matt." I tell him. "It's not healthy."

"Hypocrite." He sniffs. "You bottle stuff up all the time."

"Yeah, and then I go and kick someone to make up for it." I smirk. "From now on, then, let's make a deal. We talk to each other. If anything's wrong, we have to talk."

"… Alright." Matt replies after a moment, and I smile gently, glad we've made progress.

"So, you want to tell me what started all this?"

"It's just…" He sighs, and his shoulders slump. "How can people hurt each other like that? How can they bear it? I mean…"

"Matt." My voice takes on a harder tone, because I can see what this is about. "What your parents did is not your fault. They were wrong to hurt you. And frankly, they missed out, because their son is amazing. I'm lucky that you went to Wammy's. you have never done anything wrong in your life, and you didn't deserve the way they treated you, but I'm glad you're here with me now. Alright?"

"Alright." Matt murmurs, and hangs his head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." I smile. "Just try to be happy, okay?"

* * *

MATT

I feel really stupid. And guilty. I don't want Mello to worry about me, but sometimes it's just hard to think of the fact that my parents didn't want me, that I wasn't good enough to be L, that I'm still second to Mello. But that's the way it is. My money bought this house and my planning made Verschmelzen a success, which is something I have to remember. So enough of that stupidity. Mello is right. I have him, and that's all I need.

After Mello left to his own room that evening, I was just playing one of the Zelda games from my collection when the phone started to ring. I was a bit annoyed, obviously, but Mello never answers it, so I had to. I got up and picked it up, tucking it under my ear so I could speak whilst playing. And smoking, which was the trickiest bit.

"Verschmelzen headquarters." I answer automatically.

"H-hello?" A hesitant, teary female voice replies.

"Yes? Are you wanting to hire us, ma'am?"

"Yes, I… do you track missing persons?"

"We try our best. How long has the person been missing?"

"Three days. The police haven't found anything, and I…"

"I understand. Can I take your name?"

"Penelope Primrose. Miss. It's… very urgent. I wonder if I could meet you very soon."

"… How soon were you thinking?"

"Actually, I'm… on the way to your address now. I know it's a lot to ask, but please…"

"Absolutely. We'll be ready for you, Miss Primrose. There's nothing to worry about."

After I put the phone down, I glance at the clock. It's past midnight, which means Mello might be asleep, so I now have to go and get him up. Which is no enviable task, I assure you.

I knock softly on his door when I get there, half-expecting him to ignore me. "Hey, Mells? Can I come in?"

"Yeah." His indolent tone comforts me a little; he was already awake, and maybe he won't object too much. I open the door and step inside.

"Uh, we have a client coming."

"What?"

"Yeah… it's a missing persons case, and she was anxious to see us."

"What? It's… it's nearly the middle of the night, Matt!"

"I know!" I protest. "But she was really insistent."

"Matt, what the hell! Couldn't you just tell her to come tomorrow morning?"

"She was crying and everything!"

He sighs, and runs a hand over his face. "I'm only doing this if you bring me lots of chocolate. Right now."

"Coming right up." I answer and quickly leave, grinning. It's nice to know that things haven't changed between us, in spite of all the heart-to-hearts. Mello's still a bitch and I still love it, because that's just the way we operate.

* * *

MELLO

Heh, back to work, I guess. Matt brings me some chocolate just like I asked, which was nice of him, really; though he knew I wouldn't leave the room without it. I've already taken off a few layers, ready for sleeping, but it doesn't matter; I just pull on my leather trousers and that's enough, since I'm already wearing a black vest. I don't need a jacket in the house, to be perfectly honest.

So I go down to wait with him, and in about twenty minutes we hear the crunch of a car coming up the gravel driveway, complementing the snapping sound my chocolate makes. Matt gets up to answer the door, and soon returns with this pretty, delicate woman, all soft brown hair and big brown eyes and tiny freckles across her nose. I have to admit it, she's cute. Like a deer in the headlights.

"Thank you for seeing me at such short notice." She says softly, and Matt smiles encouragingly.

"Not at all. This is what we're here for, right, Mello?"

"Mello?" She says. "Is that your name?"

"Yeah." I tell her. "Penelope Primrose, right?"

"That's right, yes."

"I'm Matt." Matt cuts in, trying to get her attention. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Ah… a coffee, please, if it's not too much trouble." She says hesitantly, and turns back to me. "Are you the detective?"

"We both are." Matt says, and leaves to make the drink.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She says, flushing slightly. "I assumed he was some sort of… assistant. It's not often you get to speak directly to the person you're hiring over the phone."

I smile. "Yeah, we're a team. We don't need assistants. Listen, you said a man had gone missing?"

"Yes." Her eyes drop down to the floor, and I sense a quiet grief about her. "My fiancée, William Pitts. He's… he hasn't been home for three days, and I'm worried that he's in trouble."

"Of course." I reply. "Tell me everything you know, starting with the last time you saw him. We'll soon get to the bottom of this."

* * *

A/N: Well, another case underway at last :) Though I realise this was almost all fluff. Please review, I'd like to know what you think :)


	11. A Lesson In Dying Part B

A/N: After my "starting on eighty page views" promise, I'm having to update quicker and quicker, which is nice :) I'm also starting to feel a little sad, since I know that every update takes this closer to the end. It's not all bad, though - thanks to Matt I ended up digging out my old Gameboy Advance and Pokemon Red :D I feel so retro, it's obvious I'm a nineties kid. (I'm actually playing at the same time as typing ;))

From the new Reader Traffic counter, I can also see that there are people from a long way afield reading this - it's great to see where you all come from! Being in the little old UK, some of the locations some very exotic to me :)

* * *

Chapter Eleven - A Lesson in Dying Part B

MATT

Look at him, in there, _schmoozing_. He never schmoozes. I'm the one who does all the talking. He just gets angry and shoots stuff if people try to talk to him. It's only because she's pretty. He probably thinks he has a chance with her.

An assistant. Please. What am I, a secretary now? He's lapping all that praise up. What is it that makes _him_ seem like a detective and not me?! He doesn't even look _straight_, with all that tight leather, and those… gorgeous… blond…

Whatever. Point is, earlier he was saying how much he needs me and now, surprise surprise, he's in there doing all the work by himself again. He's even taken my job. Well, I refuse to be relegated to coffee boy and watch them fawn over each other. How ridiculously unprofessional. I bet he's flirting like crazy. I bet she's fluttering her eyelids at him even as I'm pouring this coffee. So what if her fiancé is missing? From what I've seen lately, she's probably the one who got rid of him.

Storming back into the room, I hand her her coffee and shoot Mello a daggers look. He isn't watching me, anyway. He's moved closer to her, and I could have sworn when I walked in that he was _comforting_ her. Comforting! He met her three minutes ago! What kind of vixen _is_ this woman?!

"Just take your time." Mello says gently. "We can't start looking until the morning at any rate; what's important is that we get the information."

"Yes; I'm sorry, it's just… so hard…" Penelope sniffles. Pathetic.

"I understand. It's alright." Mello replies. "So, when did you last see him?"

"Three days ago, at around nine." She replies, cradling the coffee in her lap. "He was… normal. He was hurrying to go to a meeting, so we didn't see each other properly; he kissed me on the cheek and then went out. I don't know who he was meeting. It wasn't in his diary."

"What was he wearing?" Mello asks.

"A black suit and tie with a white shirt. And a briefcase." Penelope replies. "His… his collar was turned up at one side, so I straightened it for him. He told me he would be back before midnight." Her voice starts to break, and Mello reaches out to touch her hand. It's almost more than I can take.

"Has he been in any other sort of trouble lately?"

"No! Well… I…"

"Yes?"

"I think he's been in contact with the mafia. I found… a photograph, of him and another man. I saw that man in the news. They say he's a crime lord."

Mello's jaw tightens. "Do you have the photograph?"

"Yes, it's…" Penelope reaches into her handbag and draws out a small frame. "It's here."

"Well, thank you, Miss Primrose." Mello smiles encouragingly. "That should be enough for us to go on for now. Unless there's something else important?"

"No… at least, I don't know…"

"Alright. Well, you can go home. Rest assured, we'll do everything we can to find him."

* * *

MELLO

I don't know what I've done wrong, but Matt was glaring at me for the whole of that conversation. As soon as she's gone I turn back to him, and I notice immediately how he's standing. Arms folded, leaning against the wall, not looking at me. With his goggles over his eyes.

"What did I do?" I groan.

"Hnh. Nothing." Matt replies, his tone clipped and formal.

"No, _seriously_. What did I do?"

He looks up at me angrily, and snaps back, "Who's fucking that one then? Come on, it's about this time you make the comment. Is it you, by any chance?"

"What?" I blurt, totally taken aback by his sudden rage. It's rare for him to even get a little angry, but this is… this is worse than I've ever seen him. This is the kind of angry that _I_ get.

"Don't play innocent, you were practically on each others' knees. It was sickening."

"Wh-- Matt!! What are you talking about?!" I reply, completely thrown. But, like a switch inside me has been flipped, I head straight into Argue Mode. "And what does it matter if we were, anyway?"

Matt flounders for a moment, pushing at the bridge of his goggles as if they're glasses. "It's unprofessional." He mutters at last, and turns to stomp away. I catch his arm.

"What the hell? Make sense, will you? What's your problem?"

"My problem?" He sneers. "Oh, gee, Mells. Maybe since I didn't grow up without a Daddy like you I can't understand. But there's such a thing as morals, and those morals say you do not flirt with the fiancée of a missing man."

Before even thinking, I slap him across the face as hard as I can. He slips to the floor, cradling his cheek, but doesn't cry out. I shouldn't have done that, but he went too far.

"Get out of my sight." I hiss. He scoffs, and opens his mouth to make some kind of smart comment, so I pull out my gun and aim it at him. He closes his mouth, gets up, and heads down the corridor towards his room without looking back.

Ohhh, shit. I shouldn't have done that.

* * *

MATT

Well, that proves it, then. I'm nothing to him, am I? Just a dogsbody to do all the hard work while he chats up girls and gets to be the super-cool detective. You know what, fuck this, fuck HIM. I don't need him. I got this place all on my own, who says I need him for anything?!

But… in the back of my mind, a little voice says to me: _If you don't need him, then why did that hurt so much?…_

I throw myself into a game, Pokemon, furiously fighting Rocket after Rocket. Destroying them. Through the thick plastic of my goggles the colours seem a little strange; but I'm used to playing like that. And if I take the goggles off, I might cry.

It doesn't take long before he's at my door again, knocking. I ignore him and turn the music up louder.

"MATT!" He yells, eventually. "Don't make me shoot the fucking lock off this door. Let me the fuck in."

_ROCKER wants to fight!_

"Matt, I swear to God I will shoot this door."

_POLIWHIRL uses BUBBLEBEAM!_

I hear him kick the door. Then his footsteps recede along the corridor.

_MATT has defeated ROCKER! MATT gets s.345 for winning!_

God. Why does it hurt so much?

* * *

MELLO

Fucking hell. I tried, I _really tried_ to get through to him, and now we're back on square one. This is so… so _pointless_. Apart from anything else, William Pitts is missing right now and we're getting paid to find him, and if we don't hurry up then we may not find him alive. Not that Matt cares about that; oh no, when he _should_ be working on this case, he's locked up in his room, playing his stupid _games_…

And I _know_ I shouldn't have slapped him. I _know _that. There's no need to guilt trip me, I'm feeling bad enough. But it works both ways. _He_ shouldn't have said that about my parents. And I wasn't flirting with her. I was just trying to be nice, like he is.

God. I don't know why I bother. This is why Near got to be number one, it's because he doesn't care about anyone. He doesn't let anything distract him. I can't let anything distract me, either. I've got to get to work.

I head back and look at the photograph, at the mystery mafia man. I have no idea who he is or how to find out. The word 'mafia' brings back bad memories, but 'revenge' is a better one; if I can find this guy, link him to the crime, and bring him down… that will be sweet. It won't take the scars away, both mental and physical, just like seeing Kira die didn't; but it'll help a bit.

Light fucking Yagami. To think, if it wasn't for him I wouldn't be here right now.

No, I've got to focus. No Kira, no Near. I have to find out who this guy is. I go to the nearest laptop and switch it on, going to a search engine as soon as it's ready. The wireless connection is slow, for some reason. I open a new chocolate bar, waiting impatiently for it to load up.

The first thing I do is a picture search for mafia men in LA. Most of what comes up is just film stills or music videos, but then I remember what Primrose said_. I saw that man in the news._ I pull up the sites of all the local newspapers and start trawling through the databases.

I hit gold at three a.m. The man in the photograph is Ronaldo Krane. He's been held on suspicion of armed robbery, assault, arson, and murder, but nothing sticks to him. He's also a money-lender, and is suspected to be the kidnapper of a guy last year: he demanded a ransom, which was handed over, and then the guy was found alive, but unable to identify his attackers. Which makes me very wary. I've dealt with mafia men before… and there's no way I'm going in there all guns blazing. This has to be done subtly, with surveillance, with bugged phone calls and hidden cameras and technical trickery. Which means I need Matt.

Oh, shit.

* * *

A/N: Alright, please review and tell me what you think of this! The next chapter will, I think, be more exciting.

(No one's realised the significance of Penelope's name yet; I hope someone spots the significance of Ronaldo Krane ;) )


	12. A Lesson in Dying Part C

A/N: Here we are again! First thing of all: I'm looking for someone to help me staff a new C2, for AU Death Note fics. I figure here, inside an AU Death Note fic, is the best way to advertise ;) Send me a message if you're interested, but please don't review just to talk about that.

Thing the second, I've put a new poll on my profile, and I would be very grateful to those who filled it in :) That said, on with the chapter!

* * *

Chapter Twelve: A Lesson In Dying Part C

MATT

"Knock, knock."

It's the morning, and although I've been up for a couple of hours I didn't expect Mello to be up quite this early. I didn't sleep well, but now he's outside my door, so I guess he didn't either.

"Who's there? No, wait, let me guess this one: is it some kind of jerk, here to finish what he started?" I spit sarcastically. I haven't forgiven him.

"No…" Mello replies, sounding mournful. "Just a jerk who needs your help tracking down a missing guy."

"Right. Isn't that the same thing?"

"Please, Matt." He says. "I think he's going to die if we aren't quick enough. You don't have to be happy with me. Just help me solve it."

Sighing, I think of Penelope Pushy and the Pitts family. They'll probably all be devastated if William dies. Well, Penelope will _look_ devastated, at least. Before she goes off flirting with another young, blond German.

Bitterness aside; I can't just stand back and let someone die. So I put down the gameboy and head to the door, unlocking it and catching Mello's arm as he nearly falls into my room.

"Sorry. I was leaning on the door." He explains hastily, no sign of the usual smirk. "Come look at the file, then we'd better go."

I nod and follow him in silence. I won't say anything that isn't related to the case. I won't help him unless it endangers the case. I won't smile. And I definitely won't forgive him.

"Do you want some breakfast?" Mello said, cutting into my thoughts.

"What? Oh. I guess." I reply, and then curse myself. So much for not talking.

"I'll make it. The file is on the table."

Sighing, I go over and pick up the brown folder containing Mello's notes. I glance over the parts I already know, and slow down when I get to Ronaldo Krane's biography. There's a grainy picture of him talking on a mobile and getting into a car with another mob boss. This is probably painful for Mello; it's close to his past experiences, to the Mafia group he infiltrated… to his burns. Which is probably why he's getting so snappy and strained. He's been holding in all of his anger about that, and the agony he must have gone through, all on his own…

Not that that's an excuse. Right, time to stop feeling pity for the guy who pointed a gun at me yesterday, and focus on the case. That's why I'm here.

_Ronaldo Krane, aged 37; part of the notorious Krane Brothers crime syndicate and an important figure in mob circles. Grandparents emigrated from Italy to open a pizzeria; however, due to the large influx of such businesses, they failed, and ended up penniless on the streets. Their son joined a racketeering business to keep them afloat, and since then it has been a family tradition. Ronaldo and his brother, Riccardo, kidnapped a man earlier in the year and demanded a ransom; he escaped unharmed after the ransom was paid, but they were never brought to justice. They were also suspected regarding the death of a small-time businessman; allegedly he broke a deal with them, and was consequently murdered. Again, insufficient evidence was found to prosecute. Ronaldo is the more dominant brother and is considered to be a major threat by the police force._

Looking up at Mello, who is carrying a plate of what can only be described as chargrilled bread with jam, I grimace and gesture with the file.

"No time for breakfast. We need to go." I tell him. "Let me grab my laptop, and we're out of here."

"Alright." He replies, looking pissed at the fact I didn't appreciate his culinary effort. Frankly, I'd rather piss him off than eat that.

I hear him start the car as I grab a few other bits of equipment, then run to get in. I sit on the back seat so I can spread everything out, and start hacking databases as fast as I can.

Mello puts his foot on the accelerator, then looks back over his shoulder. "Where should I head for?" he asks.

"Keep in town, but at the edges. Go towards the district where the Krane house is. I'll let you know when I have a better location." I reply, only half paying attention to what he's asking, typing code as fast as I can.

"I got his cell number." I add a few minutes later. "Here, take this."

Mello takes both hands off the steering wheel for a second to take the device I'm handing him. "What is it?" he asks, placing it on the passenger seat.

"It will triangulate his location, if he has his cell phone turned on." I reply. "Then, once we're there, I'll use _this _to try and intercept any outgoing or incoming calls, and you can try to get close enough to eavesdrop."

"Sounds reassuring." Mello grunts.

"Not tough enough for it?" I ask him.

"Fuck off. I'll do it." He replies, and I smirk. He's predictable sometimes.

Suddenly, the device next to him starts emitting a loud beeping signal, and I reach through the gap to plug it into the sat nav on the car. It quickly highlights Krane's location on the map and generates a route plan. He's out of town; which means we now have to turn around and head off in the other direction. We've wasted valuable time.

No matter; I start on hacking his signal and set up the speakers so that if anything comes, we'll both be able to hear it.

Mello drives like the devil, concentrating so hard he's not even eating. Hell, I'm not smoking, either. For once both of us are focused on the same goal. If Ronaldo Krane gets away with this I will personally destroy all of my games, and dedicate the rest of my life to running a campaign against tobacco. He's going down.

* * *

MELLO

Shit, shit, I can't drive this fast. I almost lost control around that last corner. Matt's so calm, getting everything done, shit, I have to put my foot down. What if we're too late? What if we're going to the wrong place? I never met this guy or anything but it seems like it's up to me whether he lives or dies, and I don't want him to die.

There's a red light, but I jump it. I can't afford to stop now. Every second could make a difference. Maybe we're too late already. Maybe he's already dead. No, no, that isn't Krane's MO; the body would have turned up by now. Ohhhh, shit. The times when I get cravings for chocolate are always the most inconvenient.

The little voice in the sat nav is telling me what to do too late. I give up waiting for it to direct me and go by the map alone, as fast as I can, cutting corners and going up pavements. I would give anything for just one bite of chocolate. Just one. Please. Why now? I chew my lip, trying really hard to keep my thoughts on the road.

"Mello, if we die in a car accident we won't be able to save him." Matt says, holding on for dear life as I speed around a roundabout, cutting up at least three drivers in the process.

"I know. I know." I mutter, attempting to calm down a little. And failing. I check the counter on the sat nav; only three miles before we're at the destination.

"I've got something." Matt says excitedly, fiddling with the volume on his speakers, pressing a load of buttons on some kind of speaker.

"Hey, Ric." Ronaldo's voice comes through, a little fuzzy, but recognisable. I think back to the news videos I watched on the database last night. This is definitely him. "You got the car ready?"

"Yeah, I do." Another voice, presumably that of Riccardo, answers.

"Drive it round. We got a body here."

"You killed him?"

"He wouldn't shut up."

I turn to look at Matt, and see the same expression of shock and horror that must be on my own face. A moment passes, and I turn back and push the accelerator to the floor.

_FUCK._

When I pull up at the place the signal is coming from, the tyres screech and I'm out of the door before the wheels stop turning. Matt isn't far behind. There are three men in black suits standing outside a warehouse. One of them is Ronaldo Krane.

"Call it in, Matt." I shout, pulling my gun and cocking and aiming at Krane. I don't take my eyes off him. Matt has my back.

I hear him talking into a phone, to the police, calling out for anyone nearby to arrest these bastards. Then I hear another familiar click, and glance round.

"Since when do you have a gun?" I ask.

Matt shrugs in my peripheral vision. "Since we started investigating mob bosses."

"Fair point." I mutter, before turning to Krane. "The fun's over, creep. For you anyway. Where's the body?"

Krane gives me a small smile, probably thinking that his brother will show up and save him, thinking that we don't know he's coming. "Inside, of course." He replies.

"Guess he can stay there a little longer." I spit. "You two. Henchmen or whatever you are. When Riccardo shows up, you better point your guns at _his_ men, or I'll shoot your boss here."

Ronaldo's lips twitch in irritation. "Best do as he says, boys." He murmurs.

That's how the police find us, arriving just before Riccardo to turn the tides in our favour. The men are stuffed into vans, none too ceremoniously. That's when, exchanging glances, Matt and I step into the warehouse and look down at the blood-soaked body of William Pitts.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was longer than I expected… consequently, it's not the last part to this case, and I'll have to stretch it out another chapter. I hope you enjoyed the more action-packed sense of this one, it's certainly more exciting to write :)

Til next time - please review!


	13. A Lesson in Dying Part D

A/N: It's been a long wait for this chapter, which I am well aware of. Sorry it took so long; I was out at V Festival all weekend and didn't manage to get it done before then. But here, finally, is the conclusion to the case.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: A Lesson in Dying Part D

MATT

I've never seen a dead body in this much detail before. What I mean is… I've killed. Of course I have, and so has Mello. But when you're in a situation where you're forced to kill someone, you don't then stick around. You shoot them and run. You don't see them lying in a pool of their own blood, vacant eyes staring up to the ceiling, hands stretched out by their sides to grasp at nothing. You don't see the bullet wound, the mess it makes of their body. You don't see death.

I feel sick. Somehow, I was working these cases like they were just a game. Like I could pick up my DS and play Phoenix Wright and it would just be exactly the same, and there was no harm done if we took our time or got things wrong first time around. But now I realise - this is life, not a game. This is serious. If we don't work quickly enough, people die. They don't get up again afterwards, we don't get to replay the level, they just _die _and then they're gone forever. Because of us. Because we weren't good enough.

It's… my fault, isn't it? If I had helped Mello, instead of staying in my room all night, if we could have worked together, we could have stopped this. He might still be alive instead of looking up with those empty eyes, and spilling over the floor. Mello takes a step towards him, his leather boots just a few centimetres from getting coated in the blood. He squats down, and closes William Pitts' eyes, and stands up again. He looks at me, and without a word we both turn and leave.

Outside, the Krane brothers are already locked inside the vans and all of their cronies have been disarmed and shut away. A forensics expert passes us as we leave, followed by a photographer and two cops carrying an empty body bag. Mello goes to stand next to the car, and a detective claps him on the back and shakes his hand. Mello barely looks at him. I trail after him, standing awkwardly a few steps away, feeling like the biggest failure the world has ever seen. A few moments pass.

Mello turns all of a sudden, and viciously kicks a rock away from the car, his face contorted in anger. "FUCK!" He screams, fuming, shaking, as birds take off in surprise from the bushes nearby.

We get back in the car, and drive to Penelope Primrose's house.

* * *

MELLO

Waiting outside the door, my fingers are twitching and my toes tapping, unable to stay still, almost wishing that no one will answer. Matt is beside me, reassuringly still, not playing anything or smoking anything, with his goggles up on his forehead instead of over his eyes. I feel his fingers brush against the back of my hand, and glance at him as he glances at me. We share this moment of dread, and then the door opens.

Penelope looks more fragile than ever; the cold wind outside stirs her hair back from her face as she steps out, wrapping a woollen cardigan closer around her tiny shoulders.

"What is it? Did you find him?" She asks quickly, breathlessly, the first kindling of hope in her eyes turning almost immediately to fear. Neither of us can answer her. It must be written on our faces.

"Penelope…" I try to start, my voice cracked and weak, and so hard to force from my throat.

"No…" She whispers, her eyes fixed on mine, searching for an answer. "No, he… no! He can't be… g… gone…"

"I'm sorry." I whisper back, not finding the strength for anything more, as tears fall down her perfect face and she drops to her knees. Matt steps forward, calling into the house for anyone who is there, and kneels to put his hands on her shoulders. It all passes like a mist in front of me. I barely know what's happening any more. I can't believe we let her down.

An older woman comes from within the house and supports her, lifting her up and guiding her inside, nodding to us her silent thanks. The door closes softly behind them, and we've just broken someone's heart.

Getting home is a blur. Matt drives. I can't. All I'm thinking of is the people I've killed, the Mafia family that I blew up, the people who just got in the way. I used to shoot first, think later. Did they have families waiting for them? Did they have wives, girlfriends, fiancées, who cried when they didn't come home? Did they have children? Did I only succeed in creating more like myself, fatherless children with nothing but a legacy of blood to live up to? Did I destroy lives the way Ronaldo Krane just did?

But… in the same situation… would I change, knowing the consequences? Could I let myself be shot and die, so that I wouldn't have to take someone else's life? And the answer… the answer is no, I couldn't. even if I had a chance to live my whole life over again, I wouldn't change. I would still shoot first and think later, if at all, because when all is said and done it's too _hard_ to think about the fact that you just took the life of another human being. To think of them as enemies, or useless pawns, or simply obstacles, is so much easier. And that's why I'm still alive today.

When we get home we drift around for a few hours, not really doing anything. I eat half a chocolate bar and then leave it in the kitchen, forgotten, and read the same sentence in a book twenty times before I realise I don't know what it says, and stare into the distance for at least half an hour. Matt switches games consoles on and off, and lets a cigarette burn down to a stub before even putting it in his mouth.

We find ourselves in the kitchen together, as the evening gets darker, sitting on stools around the island, doing nothing. I toy with the chocolate bar I left behind earlier. The foil creases and tears easily.

The phone rings, loudly and rudely, cutting into the silence with all the delicacy of a sledgehammer. I pick it up wearily, and answer. It's the local police chief.

"Yes, Superintendent?"

"It's about the case you two were working on. The Krane brothers."

"Is there enough evidence?"

"Oh, plenty, I doubt they'll see the light of day for thirty years. It's not them I'm calling about. It's… Miss Primrose, the girl who hired you."

"Oh?"

"She killed herself this afternoon. There was a note saying she wanted to join Pitts in the next life. I thought you would like to know."

After a moment of silence, I find my voice.

"Thank you, superintendent."

"Don't blame yourself. Get some rest."

I hang up, and look at Matt, who had been leaning towards the phone.

"Did you hear?"

He nods, and I look up at the ceiling, full of grief and fury and shame, wishing we could have saved her.

"I'm sorry." I say, looking back at him. "For yesterday. I didn't mean it. I didn't think."

"Me too." He replies, and his eyes are already spilling over. I try to hold my own tears in, but the sight of his sends me over the edge. Closing the gap between us, Matt pulls me off my stool and into a hug, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my shoulder to cry. All I can do is hold him back, pulling him closer and wrapping my own arms around his shoulders, supporting him as the sobs wrack his body. I'm crying, too, but quietly, the water just slipping down my face on it's own, like rain, like I'm back in that shower in Japan again.

"It's not your fault." I murmur into Matt's ear. "It's not. I promise it's not."

He grips tighter, as if to hold on to that thought, to the hope that someone isn't dead because of him. And it really isn't his fault. I know it isn't, because it's mine. I'm the one who slapped him, and pointed a gun at him, and told him to go. I'm the reason we couldn't work together. I'm the destructive force that caused the death of William Pitts. Matt is innocent.

Pulling away slightly, not crying so much any more, Matt looks up at me and, fighting back more tears, gives me my own words from what feels like a long time ago: "Can we sleep?"

Nodding, I move away from the island, keeping one arm around him, and that night, while the rain outside patters on the windowpane and two people lie dead, we sleep bound together by pain, in the same bed, holding onto each other, not bothering to change into our sleeping clothes.

By morning the rain has finished, and LA shines under a new sun, and we awake to find ourselves still together, still alive.

* * *

A/N: The promised explanations for this case:

Penelope Primrose, if she married William, would then be called Penelope Pitts, which of course is an allusion to the cartoon character Penelope Pitstop. Ronaldo and Riccardo Krane are modelled upon Ronald and Reginald Kray, the twin brothers from London who were famous for their protection rackets and so on, culminating in a murder which sent them to jail. And, of course, this is the reverse of what happened back in the first lesson - which they may finally have learned.


	14. A Lesson in Love Part A

A/N: We've got here so quickly; there are only two lessons left. I might take a bit more time over these last few chapters, I'm trying to get them exactly right. Here is the next lesson, anyway…

* * *

Chapter Fourteen - A Lesson in Love Part A

MATT

I wake long before Mello does, finding myself closer to him than when I fell asleep. We've both moved in the night, his arms wrapping closer round me, with my face buried in his shoulder. I don't move or make a sound, even though I'm awake for quite a while. I don't want to ruin anything; it feels nice to just lie here, listening to Mello breathing. One of my hands is on his chest, and I think I can faintly feel his heart beating. He's only peaceful like this when he's asleep. All the rest of the time he's noisy and rude and violent… not that I'm complaining. I can't complain. I like him just the way he is.

And it doesn't even bother me that he would probably push me away if he knew how I feel. I don't care. He never has to know the way I feel about him, so I'll never tell him, and that way I can just stay close to him instead. Like this. This would never happen if he knew.

I wonder what I'll do when he gets a girlfriend? Will I feel jealous, or…? No, I know I'll be jealous; I could barely stand to see him look at Penelope, and they weren't even flirting. I was just paranoid. Will I be able to stand it when he really is with someone? I don't know. Maybe I'll leave for a while, see the world a bit, or do some work for a games company. Then when it all goes wrong I'll come back to wipe his tears. When he needs me. Yeah… that sounds good.

Do I want more? Well, of course I do. But I'm not really that pushy, you know? Mello wouldn't be able to stand it, but I can. I can stand being third in line, I can stand being the Watson to his Holmes, so I can stand not having him. So long as I'm close to him, so long as I'm his best friend, I don't mind. But if he ever pushed me away, I couldn't stand it.

That's why I don't move or make a sound, waiting for him to wake up but not caring if he sleeps all day. He smells good, like dark chocolate - sweet underneath but bitter over the top. I take a deep breath, smiling, feeling peaceful and warm.

"Matt…"

It's with a pinch of sadness I hear his voice; did he have to wake so soon? His voice sounds strange, probably because he's only just woken up. Pretending I was asleep, I stir lightly and pull away a little to look up at his face, only to find something unexpected. He isn't awake. His eyes are still closed. He's frowning slightly.

"Matt… please stay…" He says, and I realise he must be dreaming. His arms tighten slightly around me, and he begins to look really upset.

"I'm right here, Mello." I murmur, trying to influence his dream and turn it in a happy direction, but it seems he doesn't hear me.

"Matt, don't go!" He bursts out, sounding afraid. I don't think I've ever heard him sound afraid. Sad, yes; but afraid?

"Mello, calm down." I continue, reaching up to touch his face soothingly. "It's just a dream… it's alright…"

"Matt…" Mello sighs, sounding happier. "I'm so glad you feel the same."

Then, without warning, clearly under the influence of some kind of strange distorted dream in which things like this could and would happen, Mello, still sleeping, leans forward and plants a small kiss on my lips.

My cheeks flame up, and I freeze in place. I don't know how to react. He's just dreaming, so it isn't real, but… it's almost as if he heard my innermost thoughts and desires and fulfilled them, almost as if he really could feel that way… I….

"M-Mello…" I stammer at a normal speaking volume, knowing I have to wake him up before it seems like I'm taking advantage or something, and this time his eyes flutter open.

I can tell instantly that he remembers the dream, and realises what has happened. I suppose my face, blushing and shocked, kind of gives it away. For a second he just stares at me, looking horrified, then he jumps away and sits up in bed, leaving me behind. I sit up, too, to be level with him. He looks at me like I'm L come back to life, something that just shouldn't be.

For a moment, it was perfect. And now… my dreams are shattered all over again.

* * *

MELLO

Oh, God, I can't believe I did that. He knows, now. He must know. Shit. He's… he's my best friend, and I didn't want him to know! This will change everything. How could I have been so stupid as to imagine I could sleep in the same bed as him, and nothing would happen? It was bad enough last time, I had to scrub myself in that shower, trying to get rid of all the unclean and sinful thoughts, trying to keep myself pure. Of course I've killed. But it was in self-defence, and in the defence of Matt. It was self-sacrifice, sinning to keep him alive. Lying to keep him at home and safe. Resisting temptation to avoid pulling him into sin. Now I've gone too far. It was all for nothing, because he knows now, and as soon as someone else knows you can't deny it any more. It's alright when it's just you, you can pretend it isn't true and ignore it. But when there's two of you, it's… it's no longer possible.

"Mells…" Matt says, cutting into my frantic thoughts, and looking pained. "Who were you dreaming of?"

I look away from him, and at the wall, searching desperately for an answer that will end this. He's given me a way out, and I will take it with both hands, and thank God that it is there. "Penelope." I mutter, almost ashamed at using a dead woman to cover my own sin.

"Right. I'm relieved." Matt says, sounding not at all relieved. "I thought you meant it for me, for a moment."

I laugh weakly. "No, I'm not gay." I lie, with a fake smile and an awkward little glance in his direction.

"Right. Me either." Matt replies, sounding more sure of himself now.

Crisis averted.

Matt gets up first, going back to his own room to get changed, adding that he'll make breakfast afterwards. I nod and watch him close the door as he leaves, then sigh, running a hand through my hair, unsure of what to think or do. Eventually routine takes over and I get up to change into new clothes, pulling on black jeans and a t-shirt. I'm not in a leather mood today.

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair again, wondering what I'm doing. How could I allow things to get to this point? In the eyes of God, I… I'm…

I'm so frustrated with myself. I'm supposed to be strong. I'm supposed to be stronger than this! There's no wonder I lost to Near, if this is the real extent of my self-control. Fuck it. I need to toughen up. I need to get better!

Leaving my room at last, I head to the kitchen to see Matt already making breakfast. His goggles are over his eyes and he's playing with his gameboy while he waits for pancakes to be ready. I roll my eyes.

"Matt, don't play while you're cooking. You'll burn something."

Matt chuckled, waving the gameboy at me. "You don't know how appropriate that statement was." He said.

"What?" I reply, frowning. He beckons me over and shows me the screen. It's Pokemon, as usual.

"Look, here's my Pokemon. It's a Bulbasaur, I call it Mello. And here's his opponent, the Charmander."

"Oh?" I say, having never really played this game, and not understanding.

"See, the Charmander is a fire type. So if I'm not careful, he'll attack me with fire and I'll lose."

I watch the battle playing out, reading the text onscreen and trying to figure out how it all works.

_MELLO is BURNED!_

Oh, right. Thanks Matt. Really full of tact, there.

"Er…" He begins, obviously trying to think of a way to excuse it.

_MELLO is hurt by the BURN!_

"What a stupid game." I mutter going back to the other side of the island.

"S-sorry…" Matt tries, looking fairly mortified. "I didn't know that would happen."

"Of course you didn't."

"I didn't!"

"Right."

* * *

MATT

Oh dear. I realise how that looked, but I really didn't mean it.

Maybe he deserves it, though. I mean, Penelope? He really thought I would believe that, and not have a problem with it? Especially after our argument the other day! It hurt to hear him use her as an excuse. Maybe he did like her after all. I don't know. What am I supposed to think?

Sighing, annoyed now, I lay down the gameboy to flip the pancakes and serve them up, one each. Mello's is covered in melted chocolate, just the way he likes it. Mine just has sugar and lemon.

"Anyone ring up yet?" He asks.

"No, no more vulnerable women." I reply, without thinking about how it sounds.

"What?" Mello snaps.

"What? … Oh. I just meant…"

"You just meant that there's no one for me to prey on yet, is that it? No one for me to be _unprofessional_ with?" He glares, leaning forward over the island to be all the more in-my-face.

"No!" I burst out. "For God's sake, I just meant that no one needs us. Calm the hell down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" He yells. "You're the one that's trying to get me fired up!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, let me see. 'Mello gets burned'? Hmm? Remind you of anything? Like, I don't know, maybe this massive scar across my face?"

"I always call my starter Pokemon Mello, just like the trainer is always called Matt!" I shout. "It was just a coincidence!"

"Oh, so you're my trainer now? Is that how you see it?" He snarls, getting angrier by the minute. "You're my _owner_?"

"No!"

"Then _what_?"

"I just… I don't know! Why are you getting so stressed?"

"I'm not stressed, Matt, I'm fucking _angry_! What is your problem with me?"

"I don't have a problem with you!"

"Then why are you trying to hurt me?! You're a fucking liar!"

"_I'm_ a liar?" I reply, getting angrier too, because he should know I'm not like that. "I'm not the one who pretended he was dreaming about a dead woman."

"Pretended? I _was_ dreaming about her." Mello snaps, looking dangerous.

"Oh yeah? Then how come you were saying my name?"

Mello's face twists furiously, and he stands up, pushing his chair over behind him as he does so. "I wasn't dreaming about you."

"Yes, you were. Admit it." I reply, yelling. "Just _admit it_!"

Mello's gun is suddenly in his hand, and I prepare to scoff at whatever threat he throws at me. But this time it's different. This time he shoots. I hear a _bang_, and feel the rush of wind past my ear as a bullet embeds itself in the wall next to my head. He actually took a shot at me.

"You fucker!" I shout. "What if I'd moved? You could have fucking killed me!"

"Well, good! Maybe I'd finally get some peace!"

"You want peace, do you?" I snap, grabbing up the gameboy and the car keys. "Well fine. Have some peace. I'm going to take my car, and drive away from my house, and leave you to eat my food, on your goddamn own. And I hope that makes you fucking happy."

I storm away, out through the door and into the car and away. Mello doesn't even leave the kitchen to watch me go. I guess he really doesn't care after all.

* * *

A/N: Well, that's part A. Hope you enjoyed it. Please review!


	15. A Lesson in Love Part B

A/N: The second part of this lesson is here. I'm back at Sixth Form tomorrow, and I'm probably taking on an extra subject, so time from now on will be extremely limited. Won't be long before this is finished, though.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen - A Lesson in Love Part B

MELLO

When Matt storms out of the house, I look down at the gun hanging uselessly in my hand and I feel this incredible burning rage building up inside of me. It's me. Again. It's always me that screws everything up. Why do I even carry a gun in my own house? It's not like I expect Matt to try and kill me or something. No, I carry it so that when we argue, I can threaten him with it and he'll give in. I carry it so I can pretend I would even try to hurt him.

I don't know what happened; my finger slipped, or I was holding it wrong, or I thought the safety was on; I don't know what I was thinking. I didn't mean to actually shoot at him. It's lucky that I wasn't aiming at him… or was that forethought? Was it deliberate? I don't know any more. Everything happened so fast, and now I don't know.

Before I can react, he is gone. Leaving me in the house that is his but should be ours, should be a home. If it wasn't for me and my stupid gun. My obsession with control and power. Looking back, I was trying to start this argument the second I woke up. The second I realised I'd revealed too much of myself.

But what am I afraid of? Matt? How could I ever be? I might claim to myself to be scared of his rejection, but he wouldn't reject me. I know he wouldn't. I can see it in his eyes, I could see it when he was lying to me about being relieved I was dreaming about Penelope. Knowing that he knows I wasn't, now, makes things seem a lot different. Did he go along with it to protect me, or himself? Because if there's one thing I have and Matt doesn't, it's self-confidence. I can say with faith that Matt would not reject me. He can't say the same. He can't trust that I would ever need or want or like him. I know that. I know him too well.

So what do I do, to make him feel better about himself? To make him realise I do need him? I take a shot at him. Yeah, real fucking clever, Mello. Good one. They should put it in those self-help books about relationships, it's a great tip.

And now I've let him run away from me. He'll come back, but is that the point? I shouldn't have let him run in the first place, I should have followed and caught him and begged him to come back. That's what he needs to hear. But of course, I can't give it to him. Not me, not Mello. Of course not. I'm far too tough and manly for that, right?

Fuck it. I hate this. I hate this image of myself that I've created, that I've needed as protection, that I now can't drop. This isn't me. This is not Mihael Keehl. This is Mello, and Mello is a bastard.

I sit down in the kitchen, thinking it over, toying with my options. Go after him on the bike, not knowing where he is? Wait, and have him come home later, resentful because I made no effort to get him back? Ring him, and have him hang up on me because my mouth is too damn big?

Eventually I decide to ring him, pulling my cell phone out of my pocket and dialling, waiting for the rings to be answered. I count them. One, two, three, four. Seven. Twelve. Nineteen.

I wait, and wait, and wait. Why won't he answer?

* * *

MATT

A quick glance to the caller ID shows me that it's Mello ringing, so I don't stop to answer. I'm smoking, the car window slightly open, light rain drizzling through it to slowly soak my hair and clothes, the car radio blaring some kind of angry music. Mello's. I reach over and switch to the local radio station, finding it just as noisy but less like Mello.

The phone is still ringing. It's been at least a minute. Sighing in frustration, I reach over and pick it up, flip it open, hold it right next to the speakers. I can dimly hear Mello yelling my name. I leave it until I figure he's probably bored of the song, then flip the phone shut again, cutting him off. I throw the phone over my shoulder, onto the back seat; it hits something with a sharp bang and I look into the mirror to realise all the tracking equipment is still on the back seat, apart from my laptop. Shit. Laptop. Well, I guess I'll have to go back and get it at some point, I can't really function for long without it. Still, I'm staying away for as long as I can. Give him some time to cool down. And me.

I can't believe he… God. I mean, obviously I'm going to go back to him at some point, but… just not yet. I have a point to prove. That he needs me. That he doesn't have to lie to me, and in fact doing so makes everything so much worse. I feel strangely calm. A few minutes ago I was angry and hurt, but the thing is that I understand Mello. He's probably confused, angry at himself for acting that way; I won't forgive him just like that, but that doesn't mean I hate him or don't want to go back to him.

I drive the car out of town a little way, and stop by the side of the road. I'm glad for the rain; I'd be fried without it. I finish the cigarette and flip it out of the window, reaching behind me for a game of some kind. My DS is in here from the last time I used it. I settle down into playing, getting into that calm and concentrated state that is necessary to play, focusing on nothing but the game.

I don't need to think of him. I don't need to think of anything, if I can absorb myself in something like this. I guess that's why I play them: to distract myself. When I was a kid, I had to distract myself from my father and the pain and feeling unwanted. When I was at Wammy's I had to distract myself from never beating Mello and Near, from never having friends other than Mello, from the way he seemed not to care so much either. Then when he left I had to distract myself from the loneliness and worry. Worry that was well-founded - because he never told me about the Mafia or the explosion until long after the fact. Maybe he was trying to protect me, in his own twisted way, but I didn't want to be protected; I just wanted to be with him. And ever since he called me from Japan I've been playing to distract myself from the feelings that are increasingly difficult to hide.

I wish he could understand that I care about him more than anything. That when I say it, it's not just empty words. It's true. I would sacrifice myself a thousand times over just to see him happy and well. I would go through anything, no matter how hard, so long as he was alright. Maybe he wouldn't return the favour, but that's fine, because to care about someone this much really hurts sometimes, and I wouldn't want him to feel that.

A few cars go past on the road, drivers probably wondering why I'm parked here, when there's a whole city behind me. An exciting city, a loud and vibrant city full of crimes and criminals and backdoor sins. Hidden away behind all the glamour is a city of fools. Am I the only one who can see that?

The phone rings again, but I pick it up and turn it to silent. Now he can ring as much as he wants, but I won't hear. And I won't answer. I can't talk to him without giving in.

* * *

MELLO

Pick up the phone, Matt. Please. Please pick up the phone.

I sigh in frustration as it rings for at least the thirtieth time. It's obvious he isn't going to answer. I hang up, running a hand through my hair, and look over to the coffee table, where the keys to my motorbike have been resting since we got here. It's about time I took it for a spin.

I head back into my bedroom to get leathered up, and take my helmet from the top of the wardrobe. As I'm leaving, I hesitate; what if he comes back when I'm gone? I find a miniature pad of paper, the kind that you use to make quick notes to yourself; small, but it'll do. I write him a message over three sheets, and leave them on the island where he'll see them:

_Matt - I need you. I'm sorry. I've taken the motorbike to go find you. Please stay. I'll come back if I don't see you, just wait for me. Mello._

Then I gather up my stuff again and head out of the door. A gust of wind pushes it open as I turn the handle - the weather is worse than I thought. It'll be alright. I need to find him.

I turn and close the door behind me, wondering whether to lock it; in the end I decide not to, because I'm not sure whether Matt has a key with him. I don't want it to seem like I've locked him out.

Getting on the bike, I start it up and head out onto the road, wondering where I'm going to start. Bars, maybe? I know it's too early for most people, but where else would he go? I decide to check the places we've been together, and head deeper into town.

So what am I afraid of? If not Matt, then who?

And the only answer that springs to mind, is God.

* * *

A/N: Please review! It's a little hard to tell what happened at the end since I can only write what they see, but just imagine - loose paper on the island, a big gust of wind… I'm sure you can work it out ;)


	16. A Lesson in Love Part C

A/N: Wow… getting a lot of homework again sure is a bit of a culture shock! I'm trying to get back onto a regular weekend schedule with this, though it might not happen, haha. We'll just see how it goes.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen - A Lesson in Love Part C

MATT

When the phone stops ringing, I sigh and pass a hand over my eyes. I can't believe we're acting like children again. I pick it up and dismiss the missed call message, not wanting it to run my battery down, and then stare at Mello's face on the screen. My wallpaper is a photo of the two of us, laughing and joking back in England. Before Mello went off to fight Kira and left me on my own. It usually makes me smile whenever I see it, but right now it just makes me want to cry. How could things be so hard between us? Why can't I just tell him how I feel?

But of course, that might make things worse. I don't dare to hope there was any real meaning to him dreaming about me. For all I know he was dreaming of some other Matt, of a Matilda or something, someone he met in the Mafia. Maybe it was just one of those weird dreams that don't actually reflect how you feel. It could really have been anything, so how can I even begin to hope that he might feel something for me?

I need to see him. We really are acting like children, and it needs to stop. We need to sit down and talk. And I need to tell him what I'm thinking, because if I don't then the sheer destructive force of it will rip out of me and ruin everything. I can't take it any more, all the secrecy and second-guessing and feeling like he hates me. I just want this all to be resolved. If I could have anything in the world… it would be to go back to the time we took that photo, before anything really mattered except L. Now he's gone and Near is somewhere else and we're at each others' throats, and I hate it. Mells used to make me happy. Why can't we go back to that?

That's my decision, then. I'm going home. I'm going to talk to him. I fire up the car and spin it in the middle of the road, heading back to where I came from. I have to see him.

* * *

MELLO

By the time I get to the third bar, I begin to think that I was wrong. He wasn't in our usual place, or the place we went to for our first American drink, or the place we went to to celebrate our first case. I rode past the park where we went for a walk and a smoke last week, and he wasn't there. I checked five Internet cafes. I just don't know where he's gone.

It's my fault. I guess I don't know him as well as I thought. In fact, looking back, it was me who chose to go to all of the places where we have memories. Matt just agreed, blindly, following wherever I chose to lead him. He never argues with me or asks me to change anything for him, except for the names I give to people. Which is fair enough, really, because I can be a bit harsh sometimes.

I keep checking my phone, but there's still no call from Matt. Eventually I see that it's beginning to get low on battery, so I put it in my pocket and make myself leave it there. I have to keep looking for him. The wind is getting worse, but I have enough experience to be able to ride against it.

I have to keep going. I head for the next bar, leaving my bike parked, half-running. I'm trying not to attract too much attention, but it's hard not to when a leather-dressed German rushes into a bar, looks around, and then rushes back out. I must look like such a professional detective. It's a wonder we get any clients at all sometimes.

* * *

MATT

When I get to the house, I'm surprised to see that the door is open, swinging to and fro in the wind. The weather seems to be getting worse. Mello's motorbike is gone, and his keys are too, so I assume he's out somewhere. Probably drinking at a bar or something. Getting drunk and chatting up women. Doing god knows what.

A sudden wave of worry hits me; what if he's in trouble? We have more than enough enemies, being detectives; The Mafia both here and in Japan are against him, not to mention any petty criminals, and his own natural talent for causing trouble. I wrack my brains, trying to decide what to do, and eventually I walk over to the house phone and pick it up.

I call for ages, but no one answers. I wonder if he's ignoring me, to make up for me ignoring him earlier? I guess I deserve it.

But there's still a chance. I head back outside to the car, scrambling to get under cover as I feel the first few heavy drops of rain hitting my head. The phone tracker is still in there.

I switch it on, and input Mello's number, waiting for it to start working as I start up the engine. It starts beeping, showing Mello's location as the other side of town, right in the middle of a load of bars and nightclubs. Predictable. I set off as fast as I can, needing to get to him as quickly as possible.

As I drive the little dot on the map moves a bit, getting further and further away from the house, but I'm moving quicker. The rain is lashing down. I'm only a few blocks away when it happens, the worst and most unexpected thing. The little dot disappears.

I quickly reach over and fiddle with the controls, but it's saying it can't find a signal; the phone must be off. But why would he turn his phone off? And where is he now? I drive as fast as I can, hoping to make it to the last place I saw that dot before he moves again.

* * *

MELLO

Shit, shit, shit. I thought to check my phone again, only to find the battery's gone dead. I didn't hear the noise it makes to warn that it's getting low, so what else didn't I hear? What if Matt tried to ring me?

I get back on my bike to move to another area, having exhausted all the bars nearby. He hasn't been seen or heard of. I just hope he'll be around the next corner. It's raining so hard now I can hardly see through my visor, but if I leave it open the rain goes into my eyes and makes it even worse.

There aren't many people around on the road; whoever is here is here to drink, and the weather's so bad that not many people want to be out. The business of the day is not conducted in this sector. Only a few cars pass by me as I start up the bike again, heading onto the road.

Another car splashes past; the wave of water it sends up from the puddles makes me falter, the wheels almost crashing from underneath me. The wind is unbelievably strong. This is one of the worst storms I've ever been in. It's a constant struggle to keep the bike upright, and stop the wheels from skittering off left or right over the water. I don't care, I need to find him.

A flash of lightning diverts my attention for just a second, and before I know it another car rushes past. I struggle with the bike for a few moments, on the verge of panic, before I feel it slip and slide out from under me. I crash across the road as the bike flies in the opposite direction, skimming across the water, unable to stop. It crashes sideways into a wall, while I come to a rest on the tarmac, dimly aware that the car ahead has stopped.

"Hey! Are you alright?!" A voice shouts above the noise of the storm, muffled through the helmet, but recognisable. "Mello?!"

"Matt." I murmur, aware that he can't hear me, slipping out of consciousness.

When I wake up I find myself in bed, clean and dry, my leathers draped over the radiator in my room. The curtains are open, and I can see that the rain has eased off, though there is still a slight drizzle.

I raise my head, and groan at the feeling in my side. Broken ribs? It feels like there are at least one or two, and a quick glance at the bruising there tells me I'm probably right. My head feels fine, though, and I can't sense any other injuries.

"Mello?"

Matt is standing in the doorway, holding a chocolate bar and a cup of coffee. I smile weakly. I'm not sure of how he is feeling towards me.

"Are you alright? The doctor made a house visit, and he reckons you've broken a few ribs. Your bike is pretty smashed up, too."

"I'm fine." I reply. "Just a little… can I have the chocolate?"

"Sure." Matt comes to the side of the bed and passes it to me as I slowly drag myself up a bit, leaning back against the pillows to support myself. Our hands brush as I take it. He flushes slightly, unable to meet my eyes.

"Matt-" I begin, just as he says "Mello-".

"You first." He smiles briefly, seemingly nervous.

"I'm sorry." I tell him. "I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean to shoot at you or get so angry."

"I know. And I'm sorry I argued with you."

"I…" I look away myself, now as unable to meet his eyes as he is to meet mine. "I didn't mean what I said, either. About… Penelope. It was… it _was_ you, that I was dreaming of. And it was…"

I can't say any more. The words won't come.

"Mello, I understand." Matt says, sounding sad. "I know you're not… like that. I know we're friends. I'm sorry that I tried to push it, and I won't ever again, but I just can't deny what I feel. Can you still live with me, knowing that I… that I love you?"

"You… you love me?"

"I love you." Matt repeats, meeting my eyes at last.

"Oh, god, Matt." I say, feeling better now, feeling like it's all better. "I… fucking _adore_ you."

"You're kidding me?" Matt says, after a shocked moment.

"Fuck no! I dream about kissing you, you asshole. What kind of friend dreams like that?"

"But I… all this time I didn't say anything! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Why didn't you tell _me_?! We could have avoided all of this! My bike is ruined!"

"So is our kitchen tiling!" Matt shouts, grinning. "It's your fault, you're the so-called gutsy one, it should have been your job to tell me!"

"Fuck you!" I shoot back, grinning just as much as he is. "Just… just fucking kiss me, yeah?!"

And so for the first time awake, we kiss. And it's just as good as I dreamed it.

* * *

A/N: Only a couple of chapters left :) Please review and let me know what you think!


	17. A Lesson In Life

A/N: Nothing to say here, but enjoy :)

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: A Lesson in Life

MATT

I can't believe it's been a year since that day. It feels like so little time has passed… or rather, that we were _always_ together. It seems ridiculous to think we ever had difficulty with expressing our feelings for each other; they were always so natural and right, for both of us. And now nothing in the world seems more right than that we love each other.

We're still in LA, of course, and still keeping the business going. Actually, we're something of a success here, and we've started to work more closely with the local police. Whenever there's a crime they can't solve, they turn to us, just like they used to with L. We still use our old codenames, of course, just in case; but at home we're Mihael and Mail. I've never felt closer to him.

We're involved in a case at the moment, actually. Three armed robbers broke into a jewellery store and took over ten thousand dollars' worth of goods; the peculiar thing is that the CCTV simply shows an empty store. No one can comprehend it. The tapes don't appear to have been fiddled with; the only prints on them are those of the shop owner, and no one could get into the recorder without the key, which was still on the ring belonging, once again, to the owner.

So, of course, they rang Kriminalist HQ, and asked us to help. Well, we've spoken to a few people already; Mello's done a good few interviews, and I've been poking around the shop itself, working out how they could have hacked the video system.

Mello reckons he's solved it, but in typical Mells style, he won't tell me what he's worked out. He's waiting for some kind of Poirot-style big reveal. I guess he'll tell all when the time comes, all this drama is just kind of his style. I'm used to it by now.

Anyway, so, he called us to some kind of meeting in about half an hour; I woke up late this morning so I'm going straight there from home. He took the motorbike with him, so I'm in the car. I can't wait to see if he's solved it.

* * *

MELLO

Haha, I'm a genius. I really am. With the data Matt gathered yesterday, and the interviews I took earlier, I've got this case wrapped up, evidence and everything. I guess the guys who did it won't really appreciate me showing them they didn't get away with it after all, but hell, that's what I'm here for. What we're here for, me and Matt.

The meeting is almost ready to begin. I'm just waiting for Matt; everyone else is here - the policemen who were investigating, the owner of the shop, the assistant who was there when she shop was robbed. And me, of course. When Matt enters the room, nodding an apology to me and taking his seat, I know it is time to begin.

"So." I say. "Matt and I have done a lot of work over the last few days, investigating the case thoroughly; at first, I thought it was strange, all the little details the original investigation missed. Why did no one think to check the CCTV at the end of the road, knowing it was the only way in or out? Why did no one notice the glaringly obvious lack of CCTV footage there? Why didn't anyone get a tech expert in to help?"

One of the more senior policeman opens his mouth to speak, but I lift a gloved hand to stop him, before continuing.

"As we continued to probe the holes in the investigation, all the threads around them began to unravel. Who had access to the keys? Who had access to the CCTV? Where could I get the technology or the skills to replace the footage and wipe out the evidence? These were the questions I had to answer to gather the keys to the case; and it turns out, the further I investigated, the closer to the investigation team itself the answers brought me."

"Now just a moment." The same man splutters. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to solve this case for you. Isn't that what you asked for?" I challenge. He doesn't reply, so I carry on. "I soon found that, yes, only one person had access to the keys. And only one person had access to the CCTV cameras. This means that it had to be done technologically, with the help of a program that Matt successfully traced and tracked down; we couldn't get a source, because we needed the computer it came from. So we found the computer."

At a sign from me, a young PC brings in a laptop and lays it on the desk in front of me. One of the other policemen in the room recognises it, and his face goes white.

"That… that's…"

"Your laptop; Yes, I know." I cut him off. "Once we found it, it was only a matter of hours for Matt to uncover the original footage, despite the fact you thought it had been deleted. And once we found the footage, we could find and track the perpetrators. Once we had found the perpetrators, it was only a matter of time to getting the truth out of them. And of course, we know what the truth is… don't we, Johnson?"

The senior guy, Johnson, leaps to his feet. He's practically purple with rage.

"No need to say anything, Johnson. Your colleagues here will take care of things from now." I tell him, as several other policemen enter the room and begin the process of arresting Johnson and his partners in crime.

* * *

MATT

While the offenders are being led away, I go over to Mells and grin at him.

"You did it again." I say.

"Yeah…" He drawls, then grins. "Couldn't have done it without your tech smarts, though."

"Aww, you're so modest." I reply, faux-sweet, taking hold of his hand.

"Shut up." He growls, pulling me into a bearhug and laughing.

When he lets go, there's another policeman, a good one, coming up to us with a smile.

"I don't know how you guys do it." He says, clapping Mello on the shoulder. "You're such a great team. How do you work so well together?"

"Simple." Mello grins, and ruffles my hair affectionately. "We're perfect halves of a perfect whole. How could any simple criminal ever get the better of us?"

So that's our life now. Fighting crime instead of each other. And I couldn't feel any happier if I tried.

* * *

A/N: No author's note here - there will be an extra chapter to contain an extended author's note in a few days. In the meantime, please review.


	18. Notes on a Crime Scene

Notes on a Crime Scene:

This is just an extended author's notes section, since I feel I need to say some things about Kriminalist before I let it end. Please don't feel the need at all to read this, it is un-plot-related.

First of all, this was a major experiment, and I'm extremely happy with how it turned out. By the time the second case came around and the story really began I was spending a lot more time than usual on writing, doing real research and actually getting really involved with the story. I spent hours trying to find out how much it costs to hire a private detective in LA, and finding a suitable piece of jewellery to be stolen (the Mandalay ruby is real, but isn't part of a necklace - you can find pictures of it online). Every chapter was getting longer and taking more time, but I wrote it faster than anything I ever have, sometimes starting the next chapter as soon as I'd published the previous, something I don't usually do.

My aim with every fanfic is to beat my previous best - to get more reviews, more hits, more favourites, by writing better than before. I use it as kind of a benchmark - the one with the smallest hits-to-favourites ratio is probably the worst written, and so on. While Kriminalist doesn't beat my previous best, Deception, in all categories, it is the longest fanfic I've ever written, and certainly the best thought-out. At last I've got over my habit of not even checking work before I submit it (I'm far too impatient - once it's done, it's done); I now try to go over everything, to make sure it's up to standard.

I'm pleased to say I heard from some great people in the process of writing this, whose kind words kept me going week after week. In particular I want to thank Catmoongirl, who writes greatly, Svaldifari who kept coming back for every chapter, and also the anonymous reviewers who I couldn't get in touch with before. Those two also recommended this for a C2, which was very nice of them, and it was also very nice of neko11lover to add it. It was great to hear from all of you Matt/Mello fans and, as every fanficcer knows, reviews are like bread and water to the starving.

Not only that, but this reminded me how much I love detective fiction. From not ever having written anything before, I'm now keen to do more and more, and I've even written a script for a short crime mystery film a friend is making. It's great when things open new doors, and I definitely don't want to leave this behind. I think there may also be a sequel on the way, which would involve Matt and Mello going back to Japan. Let me know if that idea interests you, since I'm not sure whether to do it yet ;) Whether it does or not, please also head to my profile and vote on the poll there, it would be a massive help to me.

Ha, there is also something else, that made me laugh quite a lot: halfway through this, when I started playing Pokemon Red again, there was a day when I was sat in my room playing it. I was wearing blue jeans, a black and white striped shirt, and a beige-y brown cardigan with a fluffy lining. I'd also just had my hair re-dyed, in my usual red colour, so you can guess who I looked like. It was completely unintentional, but I had to laugh as soon as I realised - it seems this fic really did take over my life for a while!

I might be taking a short break due to school work and computer failure... but you won't keep me away for long :)

Last but not least; I was always more of a Light x L fan. Now I've written for this pairing instead, well, I know who my OTP are ;)

Til next time,

Narni4eva


End file.
